he 

LIGHTED 
MATCH 

CHARLES  NELLIE  BUCK 


i^^> 


t^A./$~^ 


.  LltfUAiU,  LOb 


THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 


E    HELD    OUT  HER    HAND  TO    BENTON  AND  WATCHED,  TRANCE-LIKE, 
HIS    LOWERED   HEAD   AS   HE    BENT   HIS    LIPS   TO    HER    FINGERS. 


LIGHTED 
M  ATC  H  eg 

CHARLES  NEVILLE 


Schabelitz_ 

WJ.Watt  Dtmpany 
Publishers  Newark 


COPYRIGHT,  1911.  BY 
J.  WATT  A  COMPANY 

PHblishtd  Slay 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  4  OO. 

•OOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN.  M.  Y. 


To  K.  du  P. 


2125644 


CONTENTS 

HAPTER  PAGE 

I  AN  OMEN  is  CONSTRUED  .      .     ,.j    ,.-.     ,.,    ,..       9 

II  BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN     ...     ...    ,.,    ,.,     .     17 

III  THE  MOON  OVERHEARS    .      .      .      .,     ,.,     .     28 

IV  THE  DOCTRINE  ACCORDING  TO  JONESY  .     ,.,     40 
V  IT  is  DECIDED  TO  MASQUERADE  ...,.,     49 

VI  IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO      .     >     56 

VII  IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO      .     ...     70 

VIII  THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY      .     t.,    ,.,     82 

IX  THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS        .     ,.,     ,.,     .,     ,.     92 

X  OP    CERTAIN    TRANSPIRINGS    AT    A    CAFE 

TABLE     ...........   102 

XI  THE  PASSING  PRINCESS  AND  THE  MISTAKEN 

COUNTESS      .....     ,.,     -..     .     L.   112 

XII  BENTON  MUST  DECIDE     .      .      .     ,.      .      .123 

XIII  CONCERNING  FAREWELLS  AND  WARNINGS     .   137 

XIV  COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR  JOIN  FORCES  144 
XV  THE  TOREADOR  BECOMES  AMBASSADOR  .     ,.155 

XVI  THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL      .      .167 

XVII  BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING      ....    178 

XVIII  IN  WHICH  THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE    .    190 

XIX  THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL  .                  .  203 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

214. 


CHAPTER 

XX     THE  DEATH  OF  ROMANCE  is  DEPLORED 
XXI     NAPLES  ASSUMES  NEW  BEAUTY  ....    222 
XXII     THE     SENTRY-BOX     ANSWERS    THE     KING'S 

QUERY 229 

XXIII  "  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "...   2*4. 

XXIV  IN  WHICH  KINGS  AND  COMMONERS  Discuss 

LOVE 255 

XXV     ABDUL  SAID  BEY  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE      .      .   265 
XXVI     IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL       .      .      .   276 

XXVII     BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY 288 

XXVIII     JUSSERET  MAKES  A  REPORT   .  .   300 


THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

CHAPTER  I 

AN    OMEN    IS    CONSTRUED 

*  ^"l^THEN  a  feller  an'  a  gal  washes  their  hands 
*  *  in  the  same  basin  at  the  same  time,  it's  a 
tol'able  good  sign  they  won't  git  married  this  year.*' 

The  oracle  spoke  through  the  bearded  lips  of  a 
farmer  perched  on  the  top  step  of  his  cabin  porch. 
The  while  he  construed  omens,  a  setter  pup  industriously 
gnawed  at  his  boot-heels. 

The  girl  was  bending  forward,  her  fingers  spread 
in  a  tin  basin,  as  the  man  at  her  elbow  poured  water 
slowly  from  a  gourd-dipper.  Heaped,  in  disorder 
against  the  cabin  wall,  lay  their  red  hunting-coats, 
crops,  and  riding  gauntlets. 

The  oracle  tumbled  the  puppy  down  the  steps  and 
watched  its  return  to  the  attack.  Then  with  something 
of  melancholy  retrospect  in  his  pale  eyes  he  pursued 
his  reflections.  "  Now  there  was  Sissy  Belmire  an* 
Bud  Thomas,  been  keeping  company  for  two  years, 
then  washed  hands  in  common  at  the  Christian  Endeavor 
9 


10  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

picnic  an* — "  He  broke  off  to  shake  his  head  in  sor- 
rowing memory. 

The  young  man,  holding  his  muddied  digits  over  the 
water,  paused  to  consider  the  matter. 

Suddenly  his  hands  went  down  into  the  basin  with 
a  splash. 

"It  is  now  the  end  of  October,"  he  enlightened; 
"  next  year  comes  in  nine  weeks." 

The  sun  was  dipping  into  a  cloud-bank  already  pur- 
pled and  gold-rimmed.  Shortly  it  would  drop  behind 
the  bristling  summit-line  of  the  hills. 

The  girl  looked  down  at  tell-tale  streaks  of  red  clay 
on  the  skirt  of  her  riding  habit,  and  shook  her  head. 
"  'Twill  never,  never  do  to  go  back  like  this,"  she  sighed. 
"  They'll  know  I've  come  a  cropper,  and  they  fancy 
I'm  as  breakable  as  Sevres.  There  will  be  no  end  of 
questions." 

The  young  man  dropped  to  his  knees  and  began  in- 
dustriously plying  a  brush  on  the  damaged  skirt.  The 
farmer  took  his  eyes  from  the  puppy  for  an  upward 
glance.  His  face  was  solicitous. 

"  When  I  saw  that  horse  of  yours  fall  down,  it 
looked  to  me  like  he  was  trying  to  jam  you  through  to 
China.  You  sure  lit  hard  1 " 

"  It  didn't  hurt  me,"  she  laughed  as  she  thrust  her 
arms  into  the  sleeves  of  her  pink  coat.  "  You  see, 
we  thought  we  knew  the  run  better  than  the  whips, 


AN  OMEN  IS  CONSTRUED  11 

and  we  chose  the  short  cut  across  your  meadow.  My 
horse  took  off  too  wide  at  that  stone  fence.  That's 
why  he  went  down,  and  why  we  turned  your  house  into 
a  port  of  repairs.  You  have  been  very  kind." 

The  trio  started  down  the  grass-grown  pathway  to 
the  gate  where  the  hunters  stood  hitched.  The  young 
man  dropped  back  a  few  paces  to  satisfy  himself  that 
she  was  not  concealing  some  hurt.  He  knew  her  half- 
masculine  contempt  for  acknowledging  the  fragility  of 
her  sex. 

Reassurance  came  as  he  watched  her  walking  ahead 
with  the  unconscious  grace  that  belonged  to  her  pliant 
litheness  and  expressed  it-self  in  her  superb,  almost  boy- 
ish carriage. 

When  they  had  mounted  and  he  had  reined  his  bay 
down  to  the  side  of  her  roan,  he  sat  studying  her  through 
half -closed,  satisfied  eyes  though  he  already  knew  her 
as  the  Moslem  priest  knows  the  Koran.  While  they 
rode  in  silence  he  conned  the  inventory.  Slim  upright- 
ness like  the  strength  of  a  young  poplar;  eyes  that 
played  the  whole  color-gamut  between  violet  and  slate- 
gray,  as  does  the  Mediterranean  under  sun  and  cloud- 
bank;  lips  that  in  repose  hinted  at  melancholy  and 
that  broke  into  magic  with  a  smile.  Then  there  was 
the  suggestion  of  a  thought-furrow  between  the  brows 
and  a  chin  delicately  chiseled,  but  resolute  and  fascinat- 
ingly uptilted. 


12  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

It  was  a  face  that  triumphed  over  mere  prettiness 
with  hints  of  challenging  qualities;  with  individuality, 
with  possibilities  of  purpose,  with  glints  of  merry  humor 
and  unspoken  sadness;  with  deep-sleeping  potentiality 
for  passion ;  with  a  hundred  charming  whimsicalities. 

The  eyes  were  just  now  fixed  on  the  burning  beauty 
of  the  sunset  and  the  thought-furpow  was  delicately 
accentuated.  She  drew  a  long,  deep  breath  and,  letting 
the  reins  drop,  stretched  out  both  arms  toward  the 
splendor  of  the  sky-line. 

"  It  is  so  beautiful  —  so  beautiful !  "  she  cried,  with 
the  rapture  of  a  child,  "  and  it  all  spells  Freedom.  I 
should  like  to  be  the  freest  thing  that  has  life  under 
heaven.  What  is  the  freest  thing  in  the  world?  " 

She  turned  her  face  on  him  with  the  question,  and 
her  eyes  widened  after  a  way  they  had  until  they 
seemed  to  be  searching  far  out  in  the  fields  of  untalked- 
of  things,  and  seeing  there  something  that  clouded  them 
with  disquietude. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  a  man,"  she  went  on,  "  a  man 
and  a  hobo."  The  furrow  vanished  and  the  eyes  sud- 
denly went  dancing.  "  That  is  what  I  should  like  to 
be  —  a  hobo  with  a  tomato-can  and  a  fire  beside  the 
railroad-track." 

The  man  said  nothing,  and  she  looked  up  to  encounter 
a  steady  gaze  from  eyes  somewhat  puzzled. 

His  pupils  held  a  note  of  pained  seriousness,  and  her 


AN  OMEN  IS  CONSTRUED  13 

voict  became  responsively  vibrant  as  sht  leaned  forward 
with  answering  gravity  in  her  own. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  questioned.     "  You  are  troubled." 

He  looked  away  beyond  her  to  the  pine-topped  hills, 
which  seemed  to  be  marching  with  lances  and  ragged 
pennants,  against  the  orange  field  of  the  sky.  Then 
his  glance  came  again  to  her  face. 

"  They  call  me  the  Shadow,"  he  said  slowly.  "  You 
know  whose  shadow  that  means.  These  weeks  have 
made  us  comrades,  and  I  am  jealous  because  you  are 
the  sum  of  two  girls,  and  I  know  only  one  of  them. 
I  am  jealous  of  the  other  girl  at  home  in  Europe.  I 
am  jealous  that  I  don't  know  why  you,  who  are  seem- 
ingly subject  only  to  your  own  fancy,  should  crave  the 
freedom  of  the  hobo  by  the  railroad  track." 

She  bent  forward  to  adjust  a  twisted  martingale, 
and  for  a  moment  her  face  was  averted.  In  her  hidden 
eyes  at  that  moment,  there  was  deep  suffering,  but  when 
she  straightened  up  she  was  smiling. 

"There  is  nothing  that  you  shall  not  know.  But 
not  yet  —  not  yet !  After  all,  perhaps  it's  only  that 
in  another  incarnation  I  was  a  vagrant  bee  and  I'm 
homesick  for  its  irresponsibility." 

"  At  all  events  " —  he  spoke  with  an  access  of  boyish 
enthusiasm  — "  I  '  thank  whatever  gods  may  be '  that 
I  have  known  you  as  I  have.  I'm  glad  that  we 
have  not  just  been  idly  rich  together.  Why,  Cara,  do 


14  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

you  remember  the  day  we  lost  our  way  in  the  far 
woods,  and  I  foraged  corn,  and  you  scrambled  stolen 
eggs?  We  were  forest  folk  that  day;  primitive  as 
in  the  years  when  things  were  young  and  the  best 
families  kept  house  in  caves." 

The  girl  nodded.  "  I  approve  of  my  shadow,"  she 
affirmed. 

The  smile  of  enthusiasm  died  on  his  face  and  some- 
thing like  a  scowl  came  there. 

"The  chief  trouble,"  he  said,  "is  that  altogether 
too  decent  brute,  Pagratide.  I  don't  like  double 
shadows;  they  usually  stand  for  confused  lights." 

"Are  you  jealous  of  Pagratide?"  she  laughed. 
"  He  pretends  to  have  a  similar  sentiment  for  you." 

"Well,"  he  conceded,  laughing  in  spite  of  himself, 
"  it  does  seem  that  when  a  European  girl  deigns  to 
play  a  while  with  her  American  cousins,  Europe  might 
stay  on  its  own  side  of  the  pond.  This  Pagratide  is 
a  commuter  over  the  Northern  Ocean  track.  He 
harasses  the  Atlantic  with  his  goings  and  comings." 

"The  Atlantic?"  she  echoed  mockingly. 

"  Possibly  I  was  too  modest,"  he  amended.  "  I  mean 
me  and  the  Atlantic  —  particularly  me." 

From  around  the  curve  of  the  road  sounded  a  tem- 
pered shout.  The  girl  laughed. 

"  You  seem  to  have  summoned  him  out  of  space,"  she 
suggested. 


AN  OMEN  IS  CONSTRUED  15 

The  man  growled.  "  The  local  from  Europe  appears 
to  have  arrived."  He  gathered  in  his  reins  with  an 
almost  vicious  jerk  which  brought  the  bay's  head  up 
with  a  snort  of  remonstrance. 

A  horseman  appeared  at  the  turn  of  the  road.  Wav- 
ing his  hat,  he  put  spurs  to  his  mount  and  came  forward 
at  a  gallop.  The  newcomer  rode  with  military  upright- 
ness, softened  by  the  informal  ease  of  the  polo-player. 
Even  at  the  distance,  which  his  horse  was  lessening  under 
the  insistent  pressure  of  his  heels,  one  could  note  a  boy- 
ish charm  in  the  frankness  of  his  smile  and  an  eagerness 
in  his  eyes. 

"I  have  been  searching  for  you  for  centuries  at 
least,"  he  shouted,  with  a  pleasantly  foreign  accent, 
which  was  rather  a  nicety  than  a  fault  of  enunciation, 
"  but  the  quest  is  amply  rewarded !  " 

He  wheeled  his  horse  to  the  left  with  a  precision  that 
again  bespoke  the  cavalryman,  and  bending  over  the 
girl's  gauntleted  hand,  kissed  her  fingers  in  a  manner 
that  added  to  something  of  ceremonious  flourish  much 
more  of  individual  homage.  Her  smile  of  greeting  was 
cordial,  but  a  degree  short  of  enthusiasm. 

"  I  thought  — "  she  hesitated.  "  I  thought  you  were 
on  the  other  side." 

The  newcomer's  laugh  showed  a  glistening  line  of  the 
whitest  teeth  under  a  closely-cropped  dark  mustache. 

"  I   have   run    away,"   he   declared.     "  My   honored 


16  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

father  is,  of  course,  furious,  but  Europe  was  desolate 
—  and  so — "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Then, 
noting  Benton's  half-amused,  half-annoyed  smile,  he 
bowed  and  saluted.  "Ah,  Benton,"  he  said.  "How 
are  you?  I  see  that  your  eyes  resent  foreign  invasion." 

Benton  raised  his  brows  in  simulated  astonishment. 
"Are  you  still  foreign?"  he  inquired.  "I  thought 
perhaps  you  had  taken  out  your  first  citizenship 
papers." 

"But  you?"  Pagratide  turned  to  the  girl  with 
something  of  entreaty.  "  Will  you  not  give  me  your 
welcome?" 

In  the  distance  loomed  the  tile  roofs  and  tall  chimneys 
of  "Idle  Times."  Between  stretched  a  level  sweep 
of  road. 

"  You  didn't  ask  permission,"  she  replied,  with  a 
touch  of  disquiet  in  her  pupils.  "  When  a  woman  is 
asked  to  extend  a  welcome,  she  must  be  given  time  to 
prepare  it.  I  ran  away  from  Europe,  you  know,  and 
after  all  you  are  a  part  of  Europe." 

She  shook  out  her  reins,  bending  forward  over  the 
roan's  neck,  and  with  a  clatter  of  gravel  under  their 
twelve  hoofs,  the  horses  burst  forward  in  a  sudden 
neck  and  neck  dash,  toward  the  patch  of  red  roofs  set 
in  a  mosaic  of  Autumn  woods. 


CHAPTER  II 

BENTON    PLAYS    MAGICIAN 

TN  the  large  living-room,  Van  Bristow,  the  master  of 
•*•  "  Idle  Times,"  had  expressed  his  tastes.  Here  in 
the  almost  severe  wainscoting,  in  inglenook  and  chim- 
ney-corner, one  found  the  index  to  his  fancy.  It  was 
his  fancy  which  had  dictated  that  the  broad  windows, 
with  sills  at  the  level  of  the  floor,  should  not  command 
the  formal  terraces  and  lawns  of  a  landscape-gardener's 
devising,  but  should  give  exit  instead  upon  a  strip  of 
rugged  nature,  where  the  murmur  of  the  creek  came  up 
through  unaltered  foliage  and  underbrush. 

Shortening  their  entrance  through  one  of  the  win- 
dows, the  trio  found  their  host,  already  in  evening  dress. 
Bristow  was  idling  on  the  hearth  with  no  more  imme- 
diate concern  than  a  cigarette  and  the  enjoyment  of  the 
crackling  logs,  unspoiled  by  other  light. 

As  the  clatter  of  boots  and  spurs  announced  their 
coming,  Van  glanced  up  and  schooled  his  face  into  a 
very  fair  counterfeit  of  severity. 

"  Lucky  we  don't  make  our  people  ring  in  on  the 
clock,"  he  observed.     "  You  three  would  be  docked." 
17 


18  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  girl  stood  in  the  red  glow  of  the  hearth,  slowly 
drawing  off  her  riding-gauntlets. 

Pagratide  went  to  the  table  in  search  of  cigarettes 
and  matches,  and  as  the  light  there  was  dim,  the  host 
joined  him  and  laid  a  hand  readily  enough  upon  the 
brass  case  for  which  the  other  was  fumbling.  As  he 
held  a  light  to  his  guest's  cigarette,  he  bent  over  and 
spoke  in  a  guarded  undertone.  Benton  noticed  in  the 
brief  flare  that  the  visitor's  face  mirrored  sudden  sur- 
prise. 

"  Colonel  Von  Ritz  is  here,"  confided  Bristow.  "  Ar- 
rived by  the  next  train  after  you  and  was  for  posting 
off  in  search  of  you  instanter.  He  acted  very  much 
like  a  summons-server  or  a  bailiff.  He's  ensconced  in 
rooms  adjoining  yours.  You  might  look  in  on  him 
as  you  go  up  to  dress.  He  seems  to  be  in  the  very 
devil  of  a  hurry." 

Pagratide's  brows  went  up  in  evident  annoyance  and 
for  an  instant  there  was  a  defiant  stiffening  of  his 
jaw,  but  when  he  spoke  his  voice  held  neither  excite- 
ment nor  surprise. 

"  Ah,  indeed ! "  The  exclamation  was  casual.  He 
watched  the  glowing  end  of  his  cigarette  for  a  moment, 
then  magnanimously  added :  "  However,  since  he  has 
followed  across  three  thousand  miles,  I  had  better  see 
him." 

The  host  turned  to  the  girl.     "  I'm  borrowing  this 


BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN  19 

young  man  until  dinner,"  he  vouchsafed  as  he  led 
Pagratide  to  the  door. 

Cara  stood  watching  the  two  as  they  passed  into  the 
hall;  then  her  face  changed  suddenly  as  though  she 
had  been  leaving  a  stage  and  had  laid  aside  a  part 
—  abandoning  a  semblance  which  it  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  maintain.  A  pained  droop  came  to  the 
corners  of  her  lips  and  she  dropped  wearily  into  the 
broad  oak  seat  of  the  inglenook.  There  she  sat,  with 
her  chin  propped  on  her  hands,  elbows  on  her  knees, 
and  gazed  silently  at  the  logs. 

"  Why  did  they  have  to  come  just  now  and  spoil  my 
holiday?" 

She  spoke  as  though  unconscious  that  her  musings 
were  finding  voice,  and  the  half-whispered  words  were 
wistful.  Benton  took  a  step  nearer  and  bent  impul- 
sively forward. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  anxiously  questioned. 

She  only  looked  intently  into  the  coals  with  trouble- 
clouded  eyes  and  shook  her  head.  He  could  not  tell 
whether  in  response  to  his  words  or  to  some  thought  of 
her  own. 

Dropping  on  one  knee  at  her  feet,  he  gently  cov- 
ered her  hands  with  his  own.  He  could  feel  the  deli- 
cate play  of  her  breath  on  his  forehead. 

"  Cara,"  he  whispered,  «  what  is  it,  dear?  " 

She  started,  and  with  a  spasmodic  movement  caught 


gO  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

one  of  his  hands,  for  an  instant  pressing  it  in  her  own, 
then,  rising,  she  shook  her  head  with  a  gesture  of  the 
fingers  at  the  temples  as  though  she  would  brush  away 
cobwebs  that  enmeshed  and  fogged  the  brain. 

"  Nothing,  boy."  Her  smile  was  somewhat  wistful. 
"  Nothing  but  silly  imaginings."  She  laughed  and 
when  she  spoke  again  her  voice  was  as  light  as  if  her 
world  held  only  triviality  and  laughter.  "  Yet  there  be 
important  things  to  decide.  What  shall  I  wear  for 
dinner?  " 

"  It's  such  a  hard  question,"  he  demurred.  "  I  like 
you  best  in  so  many  things,  but  the  queen  can  do  no 
wrong  —  make  no  mistake." 

A  sudden  shadow  of  pain  crossed  her  eyes,  and  she 
caught  her  lower  lip  sharply  between  her  teeth. 

"  Was  it  something  I  said?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered  slowly.  "  Only  don't  say 
that  again,  ever  — *  the  queen  can  do  no  wrong.'  Now, 
I  must  go." 

She  rose  and  turned  toward  the  door,  then  suddenly 
carrying  one  hand  to  her  eyes,  she  took  a  single  un- 
steady step  and  swayed  as  though  she  would  fall.  In- 
stantly his  arms  were  around  her  and  for  a  moment  he 
could  feel,  in  its  wild  fluttering,  her  heart  against  the 
red  breast  of  his  hunting-coat. 

Her  laugh  was  a  little  shaken  as  she  drew  away  from 


BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN  21 

him  and  stood,  still  a  trifle  unsteady.  Her  voice  was 
surcharged  with  self-contempt. 

"  Sir  Gray  Eyes,  I  —  I  ask  you  to  believe  that  I  don't 
habitually  fall  about  into  people's  arms.  I'm  devel- 
oping nerves  —  there  is  a  white  feather  in  my  moral 
and  mental  plumage." 

He  looked  at  her  with  grave  eyes,  from  which  he 
sternly  banished  all  questioning  —  and  remained  silent. 

They  passed  out  into  the  hall  and,  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  where  their  ways  diverged,  she  paused  to  look 
back  at  him  with  an  unclouded  smile. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  what  to  wear." 

His  eyes  were  as  steady  as  her  own.  "  You  will  please 
wear  the  black  gown  with  the  shimmery  things  all  over 
it.  I  can't  describe  it,  but  I  can  remember  it.  And  a 
single  red  rose,"  he  judiciously  added. 

"  'Tis  October  and  the  florists  are  fifty  miles  away," 
she  demurred.  "  It  would  take  a  magician's  wand  to 
produce  the  red  rose." 

"  I  noticed  a  funny  looking  thing  among  my  golf 
sticks,"  he  remembered.  "  It  is  a  little  bit  like  a  niblick, 
but  it  may  be  a  magic  wand  in  disguise.  You  wear  the 
black  gown  and  trust  to  providence  for  the  red  rose." 

She  threw  back  a  laugh  and  was  gone. 

When  she  disappeared  at  the  turning,  he  wheeled  and 
went  to  the  "bachelors'  barracks,"  as  the  master  of 


22  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Idle  Times "  dubbed  the  wing  where  the  unmarried 
men  were  quartered. 

Two  suites  next  adjoining  the  room  allotted  to  Ben- 
ton  had  been  unoccupied  when  he  had  gone  out  that 
forenoon.  Between  his  quarters  and  these  erstwhile 
vacant  ones  lay  a  room  forming  a  sort  of  buffer  space. 
Here  a  sideboard,  a  card-table,  and  desk  made  the 
"  neutral  zone,"  as  Van  called  it,  available  for  his  guests 
as  a  territory  either  separating  or  connecting  their  in- 
dividual chambers. 

Now  a  blaze  of  transoms  and  a  sound  of  voices  pro- 
claimed that  the  apartments  were  tenanted.  Benton 
entered  his  own  unlighted  room,  and  then  with  his  hand 
at  the  electric  switch  halted  in  embarrassment. 

The  folding-doors  between  his  apartment  and  the 
"  neutral  territory  "  stood  wide,  and  the  attitudes  and 
voices  of  the  two  men  he  saw  there  indicated  their  in- 
terview to  be  one  in  which  outsiders  should  have  no 
concern.  To  switch  on  the  light  would  be  to  declare 
himself  a  witness  to  a  part  at  least;  to  remain  would 
be  to  become  unwilling  auditor  to  more;  to  open  the 
door  he  had  just  closed  behind  him  would  also  be  to 
attract  attention  to  himself.  He  paused  in  momentary 
uncertainty. 

One  of  the  men  was  Pagratide,  transformed  by 
anger;  seemingly  taller,  darker,  lither.  The  second 
man  stood  calm,  immobile,  with  his  arms  crossed  on 


BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN  23 

his  breast,  bending  an  impassive  glance  on  the  other 
from  singularly  steady  eyes.  His  six  feet  of  well- 
proportioned  stature  just  missed  an  exaggeration  of 
soldierly  bearing. 

The  unwavering  mouth-line;  level,  dark  brows  almost 
meeting  over  unflinching  gray  eyes ;  the  uncurved  nose 
and  commanding  forehead  were  in  concert  with  the 
clean,  almost  lean  sweep  of  the  jaw,  in  spelling  force  for 
field  or  council. 

"  Am  I  a  brigand,  Von  Ritz,  to  be  harassed  by  police  ? 
Answer  me  —  am  I?  "  Pagratide  spoke  in  a  tempest  of 
anger.  He  halted  before  the  other  man,  his  hands 
twitching  in  fury. 

Von  Ritz  remained  as  motionless,  apparently  as 
mildly  interested,  as  though  he  were  listening  to  the 
screaming  of  a  parrot. 

"  My  orders  were  explicit."  His  words  fell  icily. 
"  They  were  the  orders  of  His  Majesty's  government. 
I  shall  obey  them.  I  beg  pardon,  I  shall  attempt  to 
obey  them ;  and  thus  far  my  attempts  to  serve  His 
Majesty  have  not  encountered  failure.  I  should  pre- 
fer not  having  to  call  on  the  ambassador  —  or  the 
American  secret  service." 

"By  God!  If  I  had  a  sword—"  breathed  Pagra- 
tide. His  fury  had  gone  through  heat  to  cold,  and  his 
attitude  was  that  of  a  man  denied  the  opportunity  of 
resenting  a  mortal  affront. 


24  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Von  Ritz  coolly  inclined  his  head,  indicating  the 
heaped-up  luggage  on  the  table  between  them.  Other- 
wise he  did  not  move. 

"The  stick  there,  on  the  table,  is  a  sword-cane," 
he  commented. 

Pagratide  stood  unmoving. 

The  other  waited  a  moment,  almost  deferentially, 
then  went  on  with  calm  deliberation. 

"  You  left  your  regiment  without  leave,  captain. 
One  might  almost  call  that — "  Then  Benton  remem- 
bered an  auxiliary  door  at  the  back  of  his  apartment 
and  made  his  escape  unnoticed. 

A  half  hour  later,  changed  from  boots  and  breeches 
into  evening  dress,  Benton  was  opening  a  long  pack- 
age which  bore  the  name  of  his  florist  in  town.  In 
another  moment  he  had  spread  a  profusion  of  roses  on 
his  table  and  stood  bending  over  them  with  the  critically 
selective  gaze  of  a  Paris. 

When  he  had  made  the  choice  of  one,  he  carefully 
pared  every  thorn  from  its  long  stem.  Then  he  went 
out  through  the  rear  of  the  hall  to  a  stairway  at  the 
back. 

He  knew  of  a  window-seat  above,  where  he  could 
wait  in  concealment  behind  a  screening  mass  of  potted 
palms  to  rise  out  of  his  ambush  and  intercept  Cara 
as  she  came  into  the  hall.  It  pleased  him  to  regard 
himself  as  a  genie,  materializing  out  of  emptiness  to 


BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN  25 

present  the  rose  which  she  had  chosen  to  declare  unob- 
tainable. 

In  the  shadowed  recess  he  ensconced  himself  with 
his  knees  drawn  up  and  the  flower  twirling  idly  be- 
tween his  fingers. 

For  a  while  he  measured  his  vigil  only  by  the  ticking 
of  a  clock  somewhere  out  of  sight,  then  he  heard  a  quiet 
footfall  on  the  hardwood,  and  through  the  fronds  of 
the  plants  he  saw  a  man's  figure  pace  slowly  by.  The 
broad  shoulders  and  the  lancelike  carriage  proclaimed 
Von  Ritz  even  before  the  downcast  face  was  raised.  At 
Cara's  door  the  European  wheeled  uncertainly  and 
paused.  Because  something  vague  and  subconscious  in 
Benton's  mind  had  catalogued  this  man  as  a  harbinger 
of  trouble  and  branded  him  with  distrust,  his  own  eyes 
contracted  and  the  rose  ceased  twirling. 

Just  then  the  door  of  Cara's  room  opened  and  closed, 
and  the  slender  figure  of  the  girl  stood  out  in  the  sil- 
houette of  her  black  evening  gown  against  the  white 
woodwork.  Her  eyes  widened  and  she  paled  percepti- 
bly. For  an  instant,  she  caught  her  lower  lip  between 
her  teeth ;  but  she  did  not,  by  start  or  other  overt  mani- 
festation, give  sign  of  surprise.  She  only  inclined 
her  head  in  greeting,  and  waited  for  Von  Ritz  to 
speak. 

He  bowed  low,  and  his  manner  was  ceremonious. 

"  You  do  not  like  me  — "     He   smiled,  pausing  as 


26  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

though  in  doubt  as  to  what  form  of  address  he  should 
employ ;  then  he  asked :  "  What  shall  I  call  you  ?  " 

"  Miss  Carstow,"  she  prompted,  in  a  voice  that  seemed 
to  raise  a  quarantine  flag  above  him. 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Carstow,"  he  continued  gravety. 
"  Time  has  elapsed  since  the  days  of  your  pinafores 
and  braids,  when  I  was  honored  with  the  sobriquet  of 
'  Soldier-man  '  and  you  were  the  '  Little  Empress.'  " 

His  voice  was  one  that  would  have  lent  itself  to  elo- 
quence. Now  its  even  modulation  carried  a  sort  of  cold 
charm. 

"  You  do  not  like  me,'*  he  repeated. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  simply.  "  I  hadn't 
thought  about  it.  I  was  surprised." 

"  Naturally."  He  contemplated  her  with  grave  eyes 
that  seemed  to  admit  no  play  of  expression.  "  I  came 
only  to  ask  an  interview  later.  At  any  time  that  may 
be  most  agreeable —  Pardon  me,"  he  interrupted 
himself  with  a  certain  cynical  humor  in  his  voice,  "  at 
any  time,  I  should  say,  that  may  be  least  disagreeable 
to  you." 

"  I  will  tell  you  later,"  she  said.  He  bowed  himself 
backward,  then  turning  on  his  heel  went  silently  down 
the  stairs. 

She  stood  hesitant  for  a  moment,  with  both  hands 
pressed  against  the  door  at  her  back,  and  her  brow 
drawn  in  a  deep  furrow,  then  she  threw  her  chin  upward 


BENTON  PLAYS  MAGICIAN  27 

and  shook  her  head  with  that  resolute  gesture  which 
meant,  with  her,  shaking  off  at  least  the  outward  seem- 
ing of  annoyance. 

Benton  came  out  from  his  hiding-place  behind  the 
palms,  and  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  momentary 
clearing  of  her  brow. 

"  Where  were  you?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  unintentionally  played  eavesdropper,"  he  said 
humbly,  handing  her  the  rose.  "  I  was  lying  in  wait 
to  decorate  you." 

"It  is  wonderful,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  think  it  is 
the  wonderfulest  rose  that  any  little  girl  ever  had  for 
a  magic  gift."  She  held  it  for  a  moment,  softly  against 
her  cheek. 

He  bent  forward.  "  Cara ! "  he  whispered.  No  an- 
swer. "  Cara !  "  he  repeated 

"Yeth,  thir,"  she  lisped  in  a  whimsical  little-girl 
voice,  looking  up  with  a  smile  stolen  from  a  fairy-tale. 

"  I  am  just  lending  you  that  rose.  I  had  meant  to 
give  it  to  you,  but  now  I  want  it  back  —  when  you 
are  through  with  it.  May  I  have  it?  " 

She  held  it  out  teasingly.  "  Do  you  want  it  now  — 
Indian-giver?  "  she  demanded. 

"  You  know  I  don't,"  in  an  injured  tone. 

"I'm  glad,  because  you  couldn't  have  it  —  yet." 
And  she  was  gone,  leaving  him  to  make  his  appearance 
from  the  direction  of  his  own  apartments. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    MOON    OVERHEARS 

AT  dinner  the  talk  ran  for  a  course  or  two  with 
the  hounds,  then  strayed  aimlessly  into  a  dozen 
discursive  channels. 

"  My  boy,"  whispered  Mrs.  Van  from  her  end  of 
the  table,  to  Pagratide  on  her  right,  "  I  relinquish  you 
to  the  girl  on  your  other  side.  You  have  made  a  very 
brave  effort  to  talk  to  me.  Ah,  I  know  — "  raising  a 
slender  hand  to  still  his  polite  remonstrance  — "  there  is 
no  Cara  but  Cara,  and  Pagratide  is  — "  She  let  her 
mischief-laden  smile  finish  the  comment. 

"  Her  satellite,"  he  confessed. 

"  One  of  them,"  she  wickedly  corrected  him. 

The  foreigner  turned  his  head  and  nodded  gravely. 
Cara  was  listening  to  something  that  Benton  was  say- 
ing in  undertone,  her  lips  parted  in  an  amused  smile. 

Through  a  momentary  lull  as  the  coffee  came,  rose 
the  voice  of  O*Barreton,  the  bore,  near  the  head  of  the 
table ;  O'Barreton,  who  must  be  tolerated  because  as  a 
master  of  hounds  he  had  no  superior  and  a  bare 
quorum  of  equals. 

"  For  my  part,"  he  was  saying,  "  I  confess  an  aug- 
28 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  29 

mented  admiration  for  Van  because  he's  distantly  re- 
lated to  near-royalty.  If  that  be  snobbish,  make  the 
most  of  it." 

Van  laughed.  "Related  to  royalty?"  he  scornfully 
repeated.  "  Am  I  not  myself  a  sovereign  with  the  right 
on  election  day  to  stand  in  line  behind  my  chauffeur  and 
stable-boys  at  the  voting-place?  " 

"  How  did  it  happen,  Van  ?  How  did  you  acquire 
your  gorgeous  relatives?"  persisted  O'Barreton. 

"  Some  day  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Do  you  think 
the  Elkridge  hounds  will  run  — " 

"  I  addressed  a  question  to  you.  That  question  is 
still  before  the  house,"  interrupted  O'Barreton,  with 
dignity.  "  How  did  you  acquire  'em  ?  " 

"  Inherited  'em ! "  snapped  Van,  but  O'Barreton  was 
not  to  be  turned  aside. 

"  Quite  true  and  quite  epigrammatic,"  he  persisted 
sweetly.  "But  how?" 

Van  turned  to  the  rest  of  the  table.  "You  don't 
have  to  listen  to  this,"  he  said  in  despair.  "  I  have  to 
go  through  it  with  O'Barreton  every  time  he  comes 
here.  It's  a  sort  of  ritual."  Then,  turning  to  the  tor- 
menting guest,  he  explained  carefully :  "  Once  upon 
a  time  the  Earl  of  Dundredge  had  three  daughters. 
The  eldest  —  my  mother  —  married  an  American  hus- 
band. The  second  married  an  Englishman  —  she  is  the 
mother  of  my  fair  cousin,  Cara,  there ;  the  third  and 


SO  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

youngest  married  the  third  son  of  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Maritzburg,  at  that  time  a  quiet  gentleman  who  loved 
the  Champs  Elysees  and  landscape-painting  in  South- 
ern Spain." 

Van  traced  a  family-tree  on  the  tablecloth  with  a  salt- 
spoon,  for  his  guest's  better  information. 

"  That  doesn't  enlighten  me  on  the  semi-royal  status 
of  your  Aunt  Maritzburg,"  objected  O'Barreton. 
"  How  did  she  grow  so  great  ?  " 

"  Vicissitudes,  Barry,"  explained  the  host  patiently. 
"  Just  vicissitudes.  The  father  and  the  two  elder 
brothers  died  off  and  left  the  third  son  to  assume  the 
government  of  a  grand  duchy,  which  he  did  not  want, 
and  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  mahl-stick  and 
brushes  which  he  loved.  My  aunt  was  his  grand- 
duchess-consort,  and  until  her  death  occupied  with  him 
the  ducal  throne.  If  you'd  look  these  things  up  for 
yourself,  my  son,  in  some  European  '  Who's  Who,'  you'd 
remember  'em  —  and  save  me  much  trouble." 

After  dinner  Cara  disappeared,  and  Benton  wan- 
dered from  room  to  room  with  a  seemingly  purposeless 
eye,  keenly  alert  for  a  black  gown,  a  red  rose,  and  a 
girl  whom  he  could  not  find.  Von  Ritz  also  was  miss- 
ing, and  this  fact  added  to  his  anxiety. 

In  the  conservatory  he  came  upon  Pagratide,  likewise 
stalking  about  with  restlessly  roving  eyes,  like  a  hunter 
searching  a  jungle.  The  foreigner  paused  with  one 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  31 

foot  tapping  the  marble  rim  of  a  small  fountain,  and 
Benton  passed  with  a  nod. 

The  evening  went  by  without  her  reappearance,  and 
finally  the  house  darkened,  and  settled  into  quiet. 
Benton  sought  the  open,  driven  by  a  restlessness  that 
obsessed  and  troubled  him.  A  fitful  breeze  brought 
down  the  dead  leaves  in  swirling  eddies.  The  moon  was 
under  a  cloud-bank  when,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
house,  he  left  the  smooth  lawns  and  plunged  among  the 
vine-clad  trees  and  thickets  that  rimmed  the  creek.  In 
the  darkness,  he  could  hear  the  low,  wild  plaint  with 
which  the  stream  tossed  itself  over  the  rocks  that  cum- 
bered its  bed. 

Beyond  the  thicket  he  came  again  to  a  more  open 
space  among  the  trees,  free  from  underbrush,  but 
strewn  at  intervals  with  great  bowlders.  He  picked  his 
way  cautiously,  mindful  of  crevices  where  a  broken  leg 
or  worse  might  be  the  penalty  of  a  misstep  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  humor  seized  him  to  sit  on  a  great  rock 
which  dropped  down  twenty  feet  to  the  creek  bed,  and 
listen  to  the  quieting  music  of  its  night  song.  His 
eyes,  grown  somewhat  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  had 
been  blinded  again  by  the  match  he  had  just  struck  to 
light  a  cigarette,  and  he  walked,  as  it  behooved  him, 
carefully  and  gropingly. 

"  Please,  sir,  don't  step  on  me." 

Benton   halted   with   a   start   and   stared    confusedly 


32  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

about  him.  A  ripple  of  low  laughter  came  to  his  ears 
as  he  widened  his  pupils  in  the  effort  to  accommodate 
his  eyes  to  the  murk.  Then  the  moon  broke  out  once 
more  and  the  place  became  one  of  silver  light  and  dark, 
soft  shadow-blots.  She  was  sitting  with  her  back 
against  a  tree,  her  knees  gathered  between  her  arms, 
fingers  interlocked.  She  had  thrown  a  long,  rough 
cape  about  her,  but  it  had  fallen  open,  leaving  visible 
the  black  gown  and  a  spot  he  knew  to  be  a  red  rose  on 
her  breast. 

He  stood  looking  down,  and  she  smiled  up. 

"  Cara !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  are  you  doing  here 
—  alone?" 

"  Seeking  freedom,"  she  responded  calmly.  "  It's 
not  so  good  as  the  hobo's  fire  beside  the  track,  but  it's 
better  than  four  walls.  The  moon  has  been  wonderful, 
Sir  Gray  Eyes  —  as  bright  and  dark  as  life ;  radiant  a 
little  while  and  hidden  behind  clouds  a  great  deal.  And 
the  wind  has  been  whispering  like  a  troubadour  to  the 
tree-tops." 

"  And  you,"  he  interrupted  severely,  dropping  on 
the  earth  at  her  feet  and  propping  himself  on  one 
elbow,  "  have  been  sitting  in  the  chilling  air,  with  your 
throat  uncovered  and  probably  catching  cold." 

"  What  a  matter-of-fact  person  it  is !  "  she  laughed. 
"  I  didn't  appoint  you  my  physician,  you  know." 


PLEASE,   SIR,   DON'T   STEP   ON    ME.' 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  33 

"  But  your  coming  alone  out  here  in  these  woods, 
and  so  late !  "  he  expostulated. 

"  Why  not?  "  She  looked  frankly  up  at  him.  "  I 
am  not  afraid." 

"  I  am  afraid  for  you."     He  spoke  seriously. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  inquired  again. 

He  knelt  beside  her,  looking  directly  into  her  eyes. 
"  For  many  reasons,"  he  said.  "  But  above  all  else,  be- 
cause I  love  you." 

The  fingers  of  her  clasped  hands  tightened  until  they 
strained,  and  she  looked  straight  away  across  the  clear- 
ing. The  moon  was  bright  now,  and  the  thought-fur- 
row showed  deep  between  her  brows,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

The  tree-tops  whispered,  and  the  girl  shivered 
slightly.  He  bent  forward  and  folded  the  cape  across 
her  throat.  Still  she  did  not  move. 

"  Cara,  I  love  you,"  he  repeated  insistently. 

"  Don't  —  I  can't  listen."  Her  voice  was  one  of 
forced  calm.  Then,  turning  suddenly,  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm.  It  trembled  violently  under  her 
touch.  "  And,  oh,  boy,"  she  broke  out,  with  a  voice 
of  pent-up  vibrance,  "  don't  you  see  how  I  want  to  listen 
to  you?  " 

He  bent  forward  until  he  was  very  close,  and  his  tone 
was  almost  fierce  in  its  tense  eagerness. 


34.  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"You  want  to!     Why?" 

Again  a  tremor  seized  her,  then  with  the  sudden 
abandon  of  one  who  surrenders  to  an  impulse  stronger 
than  one's  self,  she  leaned  forward  and  placed  a  hand 
on  each  of  his  shoulders,  clutching  him  almost  wildly. 
Her  eyes  glowed  close  to  his  own. 

"  Because  I  love  you,  too,"  she  said.  Then,  with  a 
break  in  her  voice :  "  Oh,  you  knew  that !  Why  did 
you  make  me  say  it?  " 

While  the  stars  seemed  to  break  out  in  a  chorus  above 
him,  he  found  his  arms  about  her,  and  was  vaguely  con- 
scious that  his  lips  were  smothering  some  words  her 
lipg  were  trying  to  shape.  Words  seemed  to  him  just 
then  so  superfluous. 

There  was  a  tumult  of  pounding  pulses  in  his  veins, 
responsive  to  the  fluttering  heart  which  beat  back  of  a 
crushed  rose  in  the  lithe  being  he  held  in  his  arms.  Then 
he  obeyed  the  pressure  of  the  hands  on  his  shoulders 
and  released  her. 

"  Why  should  you  find  it  so  hard  to  say  ? "  he 
asked. 

She  sat  for  a  moment  with  her  hands  covering  her 
face. 

"  You  must  never  do  that  again,"  she  said  faintly. 
"  You  have  not  the  right.  I  have  not  the  right." 

"  I  have  the  only  right,"  he  announced  trium- 
phantly. 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  35 

She   shook   her   head.     "  Not   when   the    girl    is    en- 


She  looked  at  him  with  a  sad  droop  at  the  corners  of 
her  lips.  He  sat  silent  —  waiting. 

"  Listen ! "  She  spoke  wearily,  rising  and  leaning 
against  the  rough  bole  of  the  tree  at  her  back,  with 
both  hands  tightly  clasped  behind  her.  "  Listen  and 
don't  interrupt,  because  it's  hard,  and  I  want  to  finish 
it."  Her  words  came  slowly  with  labored  calm,  almost 
as  if  she  were  reciting  memorized  lines.  "  It  sounds 
simple  from  your  point  of  view.  It  is  simple  from  mine, 
but  desperately  hard.  Love  is  not  the  only  thing.  To 
some  of  us  there  is  something  else  that  must  come  first. 
I  am  engaged,  and  I  shall  marry  the  man  to  whom  I 
am  engaged.  Not  because  I  want  to,  but  because  — 
her  chin  went  up  with  the  determination  that  was  in  her 
— "  because  I  must." 

"  What  kind  of  man  will  ask  you  to  keep  a  promise 
that  your  heart  repudiates?  "  he  hotly  demanded. 

"  He  knew  that  I  loved  you  before  you  knew  it,"  she 
answered ;  "  that  I  would  always  love  you  —  that  I 
would  never  love  him.  Besides,  he  must  do  it.  After 
all,  it's  fortunate  that  he  wants  to."  She  tried  to 
laugh. 

"Is  his  name  Pagratide?  "  The  man  mechanically 
drew  his  handkerchief  from  his  cuff,  and  wiped  beads 
of  cold  moisture  from  his  forehead. 


36  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  No,  his  name  is  not 
Pagratide." 

He  took  a  step  nearer,  but  she  raised  a  hand  to  wave 
him  back,  and  he  bowed  his  submission. 

"  You  love  me  —  you  are  certain  of  that  ?  "  he  whis- 
pered. 

"Do  you  doubt  it?" 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  doubt  it." 

Again  he  pressed  the  handkerchief  to  his  forehead, 
and  in  the  silvering  radiance  of  the  moonlight  she  could 
see  the  outstanding  tracery  of  the  arteries  on  his 
temples. 

Instantly  she  flung  both  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  Don't ! "  she  cried  passionately.  "  Don't  look  like 
that!  You  will  kill  me!" 

He  smiled.  "  Under  such  treatment,  I  shall  look  pre- 
cisely as  you  say,"  he  acquiesced. 

"  Listen,  dear."     She  was  talking  rapidly,  wildly,  her 
arms  still  about  his  neck.     "  There  are  two  miserable 
little    kingdoms    over    there.     .     .     .     Horrible    little 
two-by-four    principalities,    that    fit    into    the    map    of 
Europe  like  little,  ragged  chips  in  a  mosaic. 
Cousin  Van  lied  in  there  to  protect  my  disguise. 
It  is  my  father  who  is  the  Grand  Duke  of  Maritzburg, 
and   it   is    ordained   that    I   shall   marry   Prince   Karyl 
of  Galavia.  It  was  Von  Ritz's  mission  to  re- 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  37 

mind  me  of  my  slavery."  Her  voice  rose  in  sudden 
protest.  "  Every  peasant  girl  in  the  vineyards  may 
select  her  own  lover,  but  I  must  be  awarded  by  the 
crowned  heads  of  the  real  kingdoms  —  like  a  prize 
in  a  lottery.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  have  run  away 
and  masqueraded  for  a  taste  of  freedom  before  the 
end?  Do  you  wonder" — the  head  came  down  on  his 
shoulder  — "  that  I  want  to  be  a  hobo  with  a  tomato- 
can  and  a  fire  of  deadwood?  " 

He  kissed  her  hair.  "  Are  you  crying,  Cara,  dear?  " 
he  asked  softly. 

Her  head  came  up.  "  I  never  cry,"  she  answered. 
"  Do  you  believe  there  are  more  lives  —  other  incarna- 
tions —  that  I  may  yet  live  to  be  a  butterfly  —  or  a 
vagrant  bee?  " 

"  I  believe  " —  his  voice  was  firm  — "  I  believe  you 
are  not  Queen  of  Galavia  yet  by  a  good  bit.  There's 
a  fairly  husky  American  anarchist  in  this  game,  dear- 
est, who  has  designs  on  that  dynasty." 

"Don't!"  she  begged.  "Don't  you  see  that  I 
wouldn't  let  them  force  me?  It  is  that  I  see  the  inexora- 
ble call  of  it,  as  my  father  saw  it  when  he  left  his  studio 
in  Paris  for  a  throne  that  meant  only  unhappiness  — 
as  you  would  see  it,  if  your  country  called  for  volun- 
teers." 

He  bowed  his  head.     For  a  moment  neither  spoke. 


38  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Then  she  took  the  rose  from  her  breast  and  kissed 
it. 

"  Sir  Knight  of  the  Red  Rose,"  she  said,  with  a  piti- 
fully forced  smile.  "  I  don't  want  to  give  it  back  — 
ever.  I  want  to  keep  it  always." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  offered  no  protest. 

"  To-morrow  is  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  To-day  you 
are  mine.  I  love  you." 

She  took  his  head  between  her  palms  and  drew  his 
face  down.  "  I  shall  never  do  this  with  anyone  else," 
she  said  slowly,  kissing  his  forehead.  "  I  love  you." 

Slowly  they  turned  together  toward  the  house. 

"  I  like  your  cavalryman,  Pagratide,"  he  said 
thoughtfully.  His  mind  had  suddenly  recurred  to  the 
scene  in  the  foreigner's  room,  and  he  thought  he  began 
to  understand.  "  He  is  a  man.  He  dares  to  challenge 
royal  wrath  by  venturing  his  love  in  the  lists  against 
his  prince." 

"  I  wish  he  had  not  come,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  But  you  don't  love  him?  "  he  demanded  with  sudden 
unreasoning  jealousy. 

"  I  love  —  just,  only,  solely,  you,  Mr.  Monopoly," 
she  replied. 

At  the  door  they  paused.  There  was  complete  silence 
save  for  a  clock  striking  two  and  the  distant  crowing 
of  a  cock.  The  pause  belonged  to  them  —  their  mo- 
ment of  reprieve. 


THE  MOON  OVERHEARS  39 

At  last  she  said  quietly :  "  But  you  are  stupid  not 
to  guess  it." 

"  Guess  what?  "  he  inquired. 

"  There  is  no  Pagratide.  Pagratide's  real  name  is 
Karyl  of  Galavia." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   DOCTRINE  ACCORDING   TO   JONEST 

¥F  the  living-room  at  "Idle  Times"  bore  the  im- 
•*•  press  of  Van  Bristow's  individuality  and  taste,  his 
den  was  the  tangible  setting  of  his  personality. 

His  marriage  had,  only  eighteen  months  before,  cut 
his  life  sharply  with  the  boundary  of  an  epoch.  The 
den  bore  something  of  the  atmosphere  of  a  museum 
dedicated  to  past  eras.  It  was  crowded  with  useless 
junk  that  stood  for  divers  memories  and  much  wan- 
dering. Many  of  the  pictures  that  cumbered  the  walls 
were  redolent  of  the  atmosphere  of  overseas. 

There  were  photographs  wherein  the  master  of  "  Idle 
Times "  and  Mr.  George  Benton  appeared  together, 
ranging  from  ancient  football  days  to  snapshots  of  a 
mountain-climbing  expedition  in  the  Andes,  dated  only 
two  years  back. 

It  was  into  this  sanctum  that  Benton  clanked,  booted 
and  spurred,  early  the  following  morning. 

Ostensibly  Van  was  looking  over  business  letters,  but 
there  was  a  trace  of  wander-lust  in  the  eyes  that  strayed 
off  with  dreamy  truancy  beyond  the  tree-tops. 
40 


ACCORDING  TO  JONESY  41 

Benton  planted  himself  before  his  host  with  folded 
arms,  and  stood  looking  down  almost  accusingly  into 
the  face  of  his  old  friend. 

"  Whenever  I  have  anything  particularly  unpleasant 
to  do,"  began  the  guest,  "  I  do  it  quick.  That's  why 
I'm  here  now." 

Van  Bristow  looked  up,  mildly  astonished. 

During  a  decade  of  intimacy  these  two  men  had 
joyously,  affectionately  and  consistently  insulted  each 
other  on  all  possible  occasions.  Now,  however,  there 
was  a  certain  purposeful  ring  in  Benton's  voice  which 
told  the  other  this  was  quite  different  from  the  time- 
honored  affectation  of  slander.  Consequently  his  de- 
mand for  further  enlightenment  came  with  terse  direct- 
ness. 

Benton  nodded  and  a  defiant  glint  came  to  his  pupils. 

"  I  come  to  serve  notice,"  he  announced  briefly,  "  of 
something  I  mean  to  do." 

Van  took  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  regarded  it 
with  concentrated  attention,  while  his  friend  went  on 
in  carefully  gauged  voice. 

"  I  am  here,"  he  explained,  "  as  a  guest  in  your 
house.  I  mean  to  make  war  on  certain  plans  and  ar- 
rangements which  presumably  have  your  sympathy  and 
support  —  and  I  mean  to  make  the  hardest  war  I  know." 
He  paused,  but  as  Van  gave  no  indication  of  cutting 
in,  he  went  on  in  aggressive  announcement.  "  What 


42  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

I  mean  to  do  is  my  business  —  mine  and  a  girl's  — 
but  since  she  is  your  kinswoman  and  this  is  your  place, 
it  wouldn't  be  quite  fair  to  begin  without  warning." 

For  a  time  Bristow's  attitude  remained  that  of  deep 
and  silent  reflection.  Finally  he  knocked  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe  and  came  over  until  he  stood  directly 
confronting  Benton. 

"  So  she  has  told  you  ?  "  was  his  brief  question  at 
last. 

The  other  nodded. 

The  master  of  "  Idle  Times  "  paced  thoughtfully  up 
and  down  the  room.  When  at  length  he  stopped  it  was 
to  clap  his  hand  on  his  class-mate's  shoulder. 

"  George,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  hardened  to  edit 
down  the  note  of  sympathy  that  threatened  it,  "  you 
seem  to  start  out  with  the  assumption  that  I  am  against 
you.  Get  that  out  of  your  head.  Cara  has  hungered 
for  freedom.  We've  felt  that  she  had  the  right  to, 
at  least,  her  little  intervals  of  recess.  It  happened  that 
she  could  have  them  here.  Here  she  could  be  Miss 
Carstow  —  and  cease  to  be  Cara  of  Maritzburg.  I 
am  sorry  if  you  —  and  she  —  must  pay  for  these  va- 
cations with  your  happiness.  I  see  now  that  people 
who  are  sentenced  to  imprisonment,  should  not  play  with 
liberty." 

"  She  is  not  going  to  play  with  liberty,"  declared 
Benton  categorically.  "  She  is  going  to  have  it.  She 


ACCORDING  TO  JONESY  48 

is  going  to  have  for  the  rest  of  her  life  just  what  she 
wants."  He  lifted  his  hand  in  protest  against  antici- 
pated interruption.  "  I  know  that  you  have  got  to 
line  up  with  your  royal  relatives.  I  know  the  utter 
impossibility  of  what  I  want  —  but  I'm  going  to  win. 
If  you  regard  me  as  a  burglar,  you  may  turn  me  out, 
but  you  can't  stop  me." 

"  I  sha'n't  turn  you  out,"  mused  Van  quietly.  "  I 
wish  you  could  win.  But  you  are  not  merely  fighting 
people.  You  are  fighting  an  idea.  It  is  only  for  an 
idea  that  men  and  women  martyr  themselves.  With 
Cara  this  idea  has  become  morbid  —  an  obsession.  She 
has  inherited  it  together  with  an  abnormally  developed 
courage,  and  her  conception  of  courage  is  to  face  what 
she  most  hates  and  fears." 

"  But  if  I  can  show  her  that  it  is  a  mistaken  courage 
—  that  instead  of  loyalty  it  is  desertion?"  The  man 
spoke  with  quick  eagerness. 

Van  shook  his  head,  and  his  eyes  clouded  with  the 
gravity  of  sympathy  for  a  futile  resolve. 

"  That  you  can't  do.  I  am  an  American  myself. 
I'm  not  policing  thrones.  To  me  it  seems  a  monstrous 
thing  that  a  girl  superbly  American  in  everything  but 
the  accident  of  birth  should  have  no  chance  —  no  oppor- 
tunity to  escape  life-imprisonment.  It  doesn't  alto- 
gether compensate  that  the  prison  happens  to  be  a 
palace." 


44  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

For  a  time  neither  spoke,  then  Bristow  went  on. 

"  At  the  age  of  five,  Cara  stood  before  a  mirror 
and  critically  surveyed  herself.  At  the  end  of  the 
scrutiny  she  turned  away  with  a  satisfied  sigh.  '  I 
finks  I'm  lovely,'  she  announced.  At  five  one  is  frank. 
Her  verdict  has  since  then  been  duly  and  reliably  con- 
firmed by  everyone  who  has  known  her  —  yet  she  might 
as  well  have  been  born  into  unbeautiful,  hopeless 
slavery." 

Benton  went  to  the  window  and  stood  moodily  look- 
ing out.  Finally  he  wheeled  to  demand :  "  How  did 
the  crown  of  Maritzburg  come  to  your  uncle?  " 

"  When  he  married  my  aunt,"  said  Bristow,  "  he 
fancied  himself  safe-guarded  from  the  ducal  throne  by 
two  older  brothers.  That's  why  he  was  able  to  choose 
his  own  wife.  He  was  dedicated  with  passionate  loyalty 
to  his  brushes  and  paint  tubes.  He  saw  before  him 
achievement  of  that  sort.  Assassination  claimed  his 
father  and  brothers,  and,  facing  the  same  peril,  he  took 
up  the  distasteful  duties  of  government.  My  aunt's 
life  was  intolerably  shadowed  by  the  terror  of  violence 
for  him.  She  died  at  Cara's  birth  and  the  child  in- 
herited all  the  protest  and  acceptance  so  paradoxically 
bequeathed  by  her  heart-broken  mother." 

"  Realizing  that  Cara  could  not  hope  to  escape  a 
royal  marriage,  her  father  looked  toward  Galavia. 
There  at  least  the  strain  was  clean  .  .  .  untouched 


ACCORDING  TO  JONESY  45 

by  degeneracy  and  untainted  with  libertinism.  Karyl  is 
as  decent  a  chap  as  yourself.  He  loves  her,  and  though 
he  knows  she  accepts  him  only  from  compulsion,  he 
believes  he  can  eventually  win  her  love  as  well  as  her 
mere  acquiescence.  It's  all  as  final  as  the  laws  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians." 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence.  Bristow  began  to 
wonder  if  it  was,  with  his  friend,  the  silence  of  despair 
and  surrender.  At  last  Benton  lifted  his  face  and  his 
jaw  was  set  unyieldingly. 

"  Personally,"  he  commented  quietly,  "  I  have  de- 
cided otherwise." 


Despite  the  raw  edge  on  the  air,  the  hardier  guests 
at  "  Idle  Times "  still  clung  to  those  outdoor  sports 
which  properly  belonged  to  the  summer.  That  after- 
noon a  canoeing  expedition  was  made  up  river  to  ex- 
plore a  cave  which  tradition  had  endowed  with  some 
legendary  tale  of  pioneer  days  and  Indian  warfare. 

Pagratide,  having  organized  the  expedition  with 
that  object  in  view,  had  made  use  of  his  prior  knowl- 
edge to  enlist  Cara  for  the  crew  of  his  canoe,  but  Ben- 
ton,  covering  a  point  that  Pagratide  had  overlooked, 
pointed  out  that  an  engagement  to  go  up  the  river  in  a 
canoe  is  entirely  distinct  from  an  engagement  to  come 
down  the  river  in  a  canoe.  He  cited  so  many  excellent 


46  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

authorities  in  support  of  his  contention  that  the  matter 
was  decided  in  his  favor  for  the  return  trip,  and  Mrs. 
Porter-Woodleigh,  all  unconscious  that  her  escort  was 
a  Crown  Prince,  found  in  him  an  introspective  and 
altogether  uninteresting  young  man. 

Benton  and  the  girl  in  one  canoe,  were  soon  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  in  advance  of  the  others,  and  lifting  their 
paddles  from  the  water  they  floated  with  the  slow  cur- 
rent. The  singing  voices  of  the  party  behind  them 
came  softly  adrift  along  the  water.  All  of  the  singers 
were  young  and  the  songs  had  to  do  with  sentiment. 

The  girl  buttoned  her  sweater  closer  about  her  throat. 
The  man  stuffed  tobacco  into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe 
and  bent  low  to  kindle  it  into  a  cheerful  spot  of  light. 

A  belated  lemon  afterglow  lingered  at  the  edge  of 
the  sky  ahead.  Against  it  the  gaunt  branches  of  a 
tall  tree  traced  themselves  starkly.  Below  was  the 
silent  blackness  of  the  woods. 

Suddenly  Benton  raised  his  head. 

"  I  have  a  present  for  you,"  he  announced. 

"A  present?"  echoed  the  girl.  "Be  careful,  Sir 
Gray  Eyes.  You  played  the  magician  once  and  gave 
me  a  rose.  It  was  such  a  wonderful  rose  " —  she  spoke 
almost  tenderly, — "  that  it  has  spoiled  me.  No  com- 
monplace gift  will  be  tolerated  after  that." 

"  This  is  a  different  sort  of  present,"  he  assured 
her.  "  This  is  a  god." 


ACCORDING  TO  JONESY  47 

"  A  what !  "  Cara  was  at  the  stern  with  the  guiding 
paddle.  The  man  leaned  back,  steadying  the  canoe  with 
a  hand  on  each  gunwale,  and  smiled  into  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  he  is  a  god  made  out  of  clay 
with  a  countenance  that  is  most  unlovely  and  a  com- 
plexion like  an  earthenware  jar.  I  acquired  him  in 
the  Andes  for  a  few  centavos.  Since  then  we  have 
been  companions.  In  his  day  he  had  his  place  in  a 
splendid  temple  of  the  Sun  Worshipers.  When  I  res- 
cued him  he  was  squatting  cross-legged  on  a  counter 
among  silver  and  copper  trinkets  belonging  to  a  civili- 
zation younger  than  his  own.  When  you've  been  a  god 
and  come  to  be  a  souvenir  of  ruins  and  dead  things 
— "  the  man  paused  for  a  moment,  then  with  the  ghost 
of  a  laugh  went  on,  " —  it  makes  you  see  things  dif- 
ferently. In  the  twisted  squint  of  his  small  clay  face 
one  reads  slight  regard  for  mere  systems  and  codes." 

He  paused  so  long  that  she  prompted  him  in  a  voice 
that  threatened  to  become  unsteady.  "  Tell  me  more 
about  him.  What  is  his  godship's  name  ?  " 

"  He  looked  so  protestingly  wise,"  Benton  went  on, 
"  that  I  named  him  Jonesy.  I  liked  that  name  because 
it  fitted  him  so  badly.  Jonesy  is  not  conventional  in 
his  ideas,  but  his  morals  are  sound.  He  has  seen  re- 
ligions and  civilizations  and  dynasties  flourish  and  de- 
cay, and  it  has  all  given  him  a  certain  perspective  on 
life.  He  has  occasionally  given  me  good  council." 


48  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

He  paused  again,  but,  noting  that  the  singing  voices 
were  drawing  nearer,  he  continued  more  rapidly. 

"  In  Alaska  I  used  to  lie  flat  on  my  cot  before  a 
great  open  fire  and  his  god-ship  would  perch  cross- 
legged  on  my  chest.  When  I  breathed,  he  seemed  to 
shake  his  fat  sides  and  laugh.  When  a  pagan  god 
from  Peru  laughs  at  you  in  a  Yukon  cabin,  the  situa- 
tion calls  for  attention.  I  gave  attention. 

"  Jonesy  said  that  the  major  human  motives  sweep 
in  deep  channels,  full-tide  ahead.  He  said  you  might 
in  some  degree  regulate  their  floods  by  rearing  abut- 
ments, but  that  when  you  try  to  build  a  dam  to  stop 
the  Amazon  you  are  dealing  with  folly.  He  argued 
that  when  one  sets  out  to  dam  up  the  tides  set  flowing 
back  in  the  tributaries  of  the  heart  it  is  written  that  one 
must  fail.  That  is  the  gospel  according  to  Jonesy." 

He  turned  his  face  to  the  front  and  shot  the  canoe 
forward.  There  was  silence  except  for  the  quiet  dip- 
ping of  their  paddles,  the  dripping  of  the  water  from 
the  lifted  blades,  and  the  song  drifting  down  river. 
Finally  Benton  added: 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  will  say  to  you,  but  per- 
haps he  will  give  you  good  advice  —  on  those  matters 
which  the  centuries  can't  change." 

Cara's  voice  came  soft,  with  a  hint  of  repressed  tears. 
"  He  has  already  given  me  good  advice,  dear  — "  she 
said,  "  good  advice  that  I  can't  follow." 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  IS   DECIDED   TO   MASQUERADE 

rilHE  first  day   of  quail-shooting  found  Van  Bris- 
•*•     tow's  guests  afield. 

Separated  from  the  others,  Benton  and  Cara  came 
upon  a  small  grove,  like  an  oasis  in  the  stretching  acres 
of  stubble.  Under  a  scarlet  maple  that  reared  itself 
skyward  all  aflame,  and  shielded  by  a  festooning  pro- 
fusion of  wild-grape,  a  fallen  beech-trunk  offered  an 
inviting  seat.  The  girl  halted  and  grounded  arms. 

The  man  seated  himself  at  her  feet  and  looked  up. 
He  framed  a  question,  then  hesitated,  fearing  the  an- 
swer. Finally  he  spoke,  controlling  his  voice  with  an 
effort. 

"  Cara,"  he  questioned,  "  how  long  have  I?  " 

Her  eyes  widened  as  if  with  terror.  "  A  very  — 
very  little  time,  dear,"  she  said.  "  It  frightens  me  to 
think  how  little.  Then  —  then  —  nothing  but  memory. 
Do  you  realize  what  it  all  means?"  She  leaned  for- 
ward and  laid  a  hand  on  each  of  his  shoulders.  "  Just 
one  week  more,  and  after  that  I  shall  look  out  to  sea 
when  the  sun  sinks,  red  and  sullen,  into  leaden  waters 
and  think  of  —  of  Arcady  —  and  you." 
49 


50  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Don't,  Cara ! "  He  seized  her  hands  and  went  on 
talking  fast  and  vehemently.  "  Listen !  I  love  you  — 
that  is  not  a  unique  thing.  You  love  me  —  that  is  the 
miracle.  And  because  of  a  distorted  idea  of  duty,  our 
lives  must  go  to  wreck.  Don't  you  see  the  situation 
is  ludicrous  —  intolerable  ?  You  are  trying  to  live  a 
medieval  life  in  a  day  of  wireless  telegraph  and  air 
ships." 

She  nodded.  "  But  what  are  we  going  to  do  about 
it  ?  "  she  questioned  simply. 

"  Cara,  dear  —  if  I  could  find  a  way ! "  he  pleaded 
eagerly.  "  Suppose  I  could  play  the  magician !  " 

He  rose  and  stood  back  of  the  log. 

She  leaned  back  so  that  she  might  look  into  his 
eyes.  "  I  wish  you  could,"  she  mused  with  infinite 
weariness. 

He  stooped  suddenly  and  kissed  the  drooping  lips 
with  a  resentful  sense  of  the  monstrous  injustice  of 
a  scheme  of  things  wherein  such  lips  could  droop. 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  she  cried.  "  You  must  not !  I've  got 
to  be  Queen  of  Galavia  —  I've  got  to  be  his  wife." 
Then,  in  a  quick,  half -frightened  tone :  "  Yet  when 
you  are  with  me  I  can't  help  it.  It's  wicked  to  love 
you  —  and  I  do." 

He  smiled  through  the  misery  of  his  own  frown. 
"Am  I  so  bad  as  that?"  he  questioned. 

"  You  are  so  bad  " —  she  suddenly  caught  his  hands 


IT  IS  DECIDED  TO  MASQUERADE        51 

in  hers  and  slowly  shook  her  head  — "  that  I  don't  trust 
myself  on  the  same  side  of  the  road  with  you.  You 
must  go  across  and  sit  on  that  opposite  side."  She 
lightly  kissed  his  forehead.  "  That's  a  kiss  before  exile 

—  now  go." 

He  measured  the  distance  with  disapproving  eyes. 
"  That  must  be  fifteen  feet  away,"  he  protested,  "  and 
my  arms  are  not  a  yard  long."  He  stretched  them  out, 
viewing  them  ruefully. 

"  Go ! "  she  repeated  with  sternness. 

He  obeyed  slowly,  his  face  growing  sullen. 

"  If  I  am  to  stay  here  until  I  recant  what  I  said 
about  your  odious  kingdom  and  your  miserable  throne, 
I'll  —  I'll— "  He  cast  about  for  a  sufficiently  rebel- 
lious sentiment,  then  resolutely  asserted :  "  I'll  stay  here 
until  I  rot  in  my  chains."  He  raised  his  hands  and 
shook  imaginary  manacles.  "  Clink  !  Clink !  Clink !  " 
he  added  dramatically. 

"  You  are  being  punished  for  being  too  fascinating 
to  a  poor  little  fool  princess  who  has  played  truant 
and  who  doesn't  want  to  go  back  to  school."  She 
talked  on  with  forced  levity.  "  As  for  the  kingdom," 

—  once  more  her  eyes  became  wistful  — "  you  may  say 
what  you  like  about  it.     You  can't  possibly  hate  it  as 
much  as  I.     There  is  no  anarchist  screaming  his  ad- 
herence to  the  red  flag  or  inventing  infernal  machines, 
who  hates  all  thrones  as  much   as  the  one  small   girl 


52  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

who  must  needs  be  Queen  of  Galavia.  No,  lese-majeste 
is  not  the  fault  for  which  you  are  being  punished." 

For  a  while  he  was  silent,  then  his  voice  was  raised 
in  exile,  almost  cheerfully. 

"  Destiny  is  stronger  than  the  paretic  councils  of 
little  inbred  kings.  Why,  Cara,  I  can  get  one  good, 
husky  Methodist  preacher  who  can  do  in  five  minutes 
what  I  hardly  think  your  royalties  can  undo  — 
ever." 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  she  stopped  him  with  plaintive  appeal. 
"  I  know  all  that.  I  know  it.  Don't  you  realize  that 
the  longer  the  flight  into  the  open  blue  of  the  skies, 
the  harder  the  return  to  a  gilt  cage?  But,  dearest  — 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  keeping  one's  parole.  I  must 
go  back,  unless  I  am  held  by  a  force  stronger 
than  I.  I  must  go  back.  I  have  been  here  almost 
too  long." 

"  Cara,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I,  too,  have  a  sense  of  duty. 
It  is  to  you.  The  open  blue  of  the  skies  is  yours 
by  right  —  divine  right.  You  have  nothing  to  do  with 
cages,  gilt  or  otherwise.  My  duty  is  to  free  you. 
I  mean  to  do  it.  I  haven't  finished  thinking  it  out  yet, 
but  I  am  going  to  find  the  way." 

Her  answering  voice  was  deeply  grave. 

"  If  you  just  devise  a  situation  where  I  shall  have 
to  fight  it  all  out  again,  you  will  only  make  it  harder 
for  me.  I  must  do  what  I  must  do.  I  could  only  be 


IT.  IS  DECIDED  TO  MASQUERADE        53 

rescued  by  some  power  stronger  than  myself.  Come, 
let's  go  back." 

At  dinner  that  same  evening  Mrs.  Van  announced  to 
her  guests  that  "  by  request  of  one  who  should  be  name- 
less," punctuating  her  pledge  of  secrecy  with  a  pro- 
nounced glance  at  Benton,  there  would  be  a  masquerade 
affair  on  the  evening  before  Cara's  departure  for  New 
York.  She  said  this  was  to  be  an  informal  sort  of 
frolic  in  fancy  dress,  and  the  only  requirement  would 
be  that  every  grown-up  should  for  an  evening  return 
to  childhood. 

On  the  next  morning  ensued  a  hegira  from  the  place, 
the  object  whereof  was  guarded  with  the  most  diplomatic 
deception  and  secrecy. 

"Why  this  unanimous  desertion?"  demanded  Van 
indignantly  from  the  head  of  the  table  when  it  began 
to  develop  that  an  exodus  impended.  "  Do  your  ap- 
petites crave  the  stimulus  of  city  cooking?  Are  you 
leaving  my  simple  roof  for  the  lobster  palaces?  " 

Benton  shook  his  head.  "  Singular,"  he  commented, 
studying  his  grape-fruit  with  the  air  of  an  oracle  gaz- 
ing into  crystal.  "  There,  for  example,  is  Colonel  Cen- 
tress  who  will  probably  tell  you  that  he  has  had  an 
imperative  summons  to  confer  with  his  brokers  and  — " 

He  paused,  while  the  ancient  beau  across  the  table 
quickly  nodded  affirmation. 

"  Quite   so.     How  did  you  guess  it  ?  "  he  inquired. 


54  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Never  talk  business  at  table,  of  course,  but  this  is  a 
mysterious  flurry  in  stocks  —  quite  a  mysterious  flurry." 

"  Quite  so,"  echoed  Benton.  "  Nevertheless,  if  you 
were  to  shadow  the  gallant  Colonel  in  Manhattan  to- 
day he  would  probably  lead  you  to  a  costuming  tailor, 
where  you  would  discover  him  in  the  act  of  being  fitted 
with  a  Roman  toga  or  a  crusader's  mail." 

Mrs.  Porter-Woodleigh  shot  a  malicious  glance  at 
the  tall  foreigner  whose  emotionless  face  proved  a  con- 
stant irritation  to  her  exuberant  vivacity.  "  I  under- 
stand, Colonel  Von  Ritz,"  she  innocently  suggested, 
"  that  you  are  to  impersonate  a  polar  bear." 

The  Galavian  smiled  deep  in  his  eyes  only ;  his  lips 
remained  sober.  One  would  have  said  that  he  had  not 
recognized  the  thrust.  "  I  shall  only  remain  myself," 
he  replied.  "  I  am  allowed  to  be  a  looker-on  in  Venice." 

Under  her  breath  the  widow  confided  to  her  next 
neighbor :  "  Ah !  then  it  is  true." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  town  for?  "  demanded  Mrs. 
Van,  looking  accusingly  at  Benton,  as  that  gentleman 
arose  from  the  table. 

"  I  should  say,"  he  laughingly  responded,  "  that  I  am 
going  to  complete  final  arrangements  for  getting  the 
Isis  into  commission,  but  nobody  would  believe  me. 
You  are  all  becoming  so  diplomatic  of  late ! " 

Von  Ritz  glanced  up  casually.  "  There  is  one  very 
dangerous  diplomacy  —  one  very  difficult  to  become  ac- 


IT  IS  DECIDED  TO  MASQUERADE        55 

customed  to,"  he  commented.  "  I  allude  to  the  Ameri- 
can diplomacy  of  frankness." 

"  The  his?  To  think  I  have  never  seen  your  yacht !  " 
mused  Cara.  "  And  yet  you  are  allowing  me  to  cross 
on  a  steamer." 

"  If  she  could  be  put  in  shape  so  soon,"  declared 
Benton  regretfully,  glancing  from  Von  Ritz  to  Pagra- 
tide,  "  I  should  shanghai  Mrs.  Van  for  a  chaperon  and 
give  a  party  to  Europe.  Unfortunately  I  can't  get 
her  in  readiness  promptly  enough;  unless,"  he  added 
hopefully,  "Miss  Carstow  can  postpone  her  sailing- 
day?" 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO 

T  II  7HEN  Benton  had  straightened  out  his  car  for 
*  *  the  run  to  the  city,  and  the  road  had  begun  to 
slip  away  under  the  tires,  he  turned  to  McGuire,  his 
chauffeur. 

"McGuire,"  he  inquired,  "where  is  the  runabout?" 

11  At '  Idle  Times,'  sir.  You  loaned  it  to  Mr.  Bristow 
to  fill  up  the  garage." 

"  I  remember.  Now,  listen ! "  And  as  Benton  talked 
a  slow  grin  of  contentment  spread  across  the  visage 
of  Mr.  McGuire,  hinting  of  some  enterprise  that  ap- 
pealed to  his  venturesome  soul  with  a  lure  beyond  the 
ordinary. 

In  the  city,  Benton  was  a  busy  man,  though  his  visit 
to  the  costumer's  was  brief.  Coming  out  of  the  place, 
he  fancied  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Von  Ritz,  but  the 
view  was  fleeting  and  he  decided  that  his  eyes  must 
have  deceived  him.  He  had  himself  patronized  a  rather 
obscure  shop,  recommended  by  Mr.  McGuire.  Von 
Ritz  would  presumably  have  selected  some  more  fash- 
ionable purveyor  of  disguises  even  had  his  assertion  that 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     57 

he  would  not  masquerade  been  made  only  to  deceive. 
Perhaps,  thought  the  American,  Colonel  Von  Ritz  was 
becoming  an  obsession  with  him,  merely  because  he  stood 
for  Galavia  and  the  threat  of  royalty's  mandate.  He 
was  convinced  of  this  later  in  the  day,  when  he  once 
more  fancied  that  a  disappearing  pair  of  broad  shoul- 
ders belonged  to  the  European.  This  time  he  laughed 
at  the  idea.  The  surroundings  made  the  supposition 
ludicrous.  It  was  among  the  tawdry  shops  of  ship 
chandlers  in  the  East  Side,  where  he  himself  had  gone 
in  search  of  certain  able  seamen  in  the  company  of 
the  sailing-master  of  the  Isis.  Von  Ritz  would  hardly 
be  consorting  with  the  fo'castle  men  who  frequent  the 
water  front  below  Brooklyn  Bridge. 

The  few  days  of  the  last  week  raced  by,  with  all 
the  charm  of  sky  and  field  that  the  magic  of  Indian 
summer  can  lavish,  and  for  Benton  and  Cara,  they 
raced  also  with  the  sense  of  fast-slipping  hope  and  re- 
lentlessly marching  doom.  Outwardly  Cara  set  a  pace 
for  vivacious  and  care-free  enjoyment  that  left  Mrs. 
Porter- Woodleigh,  the  "  semi-professional  light-hearted 
lady,"  as  O'Barreton  named  her,  "  to  trail  along  in 
the  ruck."  Alone  with  Benton,  there  was  always  the 
furrow  between  the  brows  and  the  distressed  gaze  upon 
the  mystery  beyond  the  sky-line,  but  Pagratide  and  Von 
Ritz  were  vigilant,  to  the  end  that  their  tete-a-tetes 
were  few. 


58  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Neither  Benton  nor  Cara  had  alluded  to  the  man's 
overbold  assertion  that  he  would  find  a  way.  It  was  a 
futile  thing  said  in  eagerness.  The  day  of  the  dance, 
the  last  day  they  could  hope  for  together,  came  un- 
prefaced by  development.  To-morrow  she  must  take 
up  her  journey  and  her  duty:  her  holiday  would  be 
at  its  end.  It  was  all  the  greater  reason  why  this 
evening  should  be  memorable.  He  should  think  of  her 
afterward  as  he  saw  her  to-night,  and  it  pleased  her 
that  in  the  irresponsibility  of  the  maskers  she  should 
appear  to  him  in  the  garb  of  vagabond  liberty,  since 
in  fact  freedom  was  impossible  to  her. 

As  the  kaleidoscope  of  the  first  dance  sifted  and 
shifted  its  pattern  of  color,  three  men  stood  by  the 
door,  scanning  the  disguised  figures  with  watchful  eyes. 

One  of  the  three  was  fantastically  arrayed  as  a  canni- 
bal chief,  in  brown  fleshings,  with  cuffs  upon  his  ankles, 
gaudy  decorations  about  his  neck,  and  huge  rings  in 
nose  and  ears. 

The  second  man  was  a  Bedouin :  a  camel-driver  of  the 
Libyan  Desert.  From  the  black  horsehair  circlet  on 
his  temples  a  turban-scarf  fell  to  his  shoulders.  He 
was  wrapped  in  a  brown  cashmere  cloak  which  dropped 
domino-like  to  his  ankles.  Shaggy  brows  ran  in  an 
unbroken  line  from  temple  to  temple,  masking  his  eyes, 
while  a  fierce  mustache  and  beard  obliterated  the  con- 
tour of  his  lower  face.  His  cheek-bones  and  fore- 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     59 

head  showed,  under  some  dye,  as  dark  as  leather,  and 
as  his  gaze  searchingly  raked  the  crowds,  he  fingered 
a  string  of  Moslem  prayer-beads. 

The  third  man  was  conspicuous  in  ordinary  dress. 
Save  for  the  decoration  of  the  Order  of  Takavo,  sus- 
pended by  a  crimson  ribbon  on  his  shirt-front,  and  the 
Star  of  Galavia,  on  the  left  lapel  of  his  coat,  there 
was  no  break  in  the  black  and  white  scheme  of  his 
evening  clothes.  Von  Ritz  had  told  the  truth.  He  was 
not  disguised.  He  stood,  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast, 
towering  above  the  Fiji  Islander,  possibly  a  quarter  of 
an  inch  taller  than  the  Bedouin.  A  half-amused  smile 
lurked  in  his  steady  eyes  —  the  smile  of  unwavering 
brows  and  dispassionately  steady  mouth-line. 

The  cannibal  chief  waved  his  hand.  "  Bright  the 
lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men ! "  he  de- 
claimed, in  a  disguised  voice;  then  scowled  about  him 
villainously,  remembering  that  an  affable  quoting  of 
Lord  Byron  is  incompatible  with  the  qualities  of  a  man- 
eating  savage. 

The  Bedouin  gravely  inclined  his  head.  "  Allahu 
Akbar!  "  he  responded,  in  a  soft  voice. 

Suddenly  the  caravan  driver  commenced  a  hurried  and 
zigzag  course  across  the  crowded  floor.  The  eyes  of 
Colonel  Von  Ritz  indolently  followed. 

Through  a  low-silled  window  a  girl  had  just  entered, 
carrying  herself  with  the  untrammeled  freedom  of 


60  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

some  wild  thing,  erect,  poised  from  the  waist,  rhythmic 
in  motion.  Her  walk  was  like  the  scansion  of  good 
verse.  The  Bedouin  caught  the  grace  before  the  en- 
semble of  costume  met  his  eye.  It  was  in  harmony. 

She  wore  a  silk  skirt  to  the  ankles,  and  about  her 
waist  and  hips  was  bound  the  yellow  and  red  sash  of 
the  Spanish  gipsy,  tightly  knotted,  and  falling  at  its 
tasseled  ends.  Her  arms  were  bare  to  the  elbows,  and 
gay  with  bracelets ;  her  hair  fell  from  her  forehead  and 
temples,  dropping  over  her  shoulders  in  two  ribbon 
bound  braids.  A  tall,  gray-cowled  monk,  whose  mili- 
tary bearing  gave  the  lie  to  his  cassock,  a  Spanish 
grandee,  and  a  fool  in  motley  saw  her  at  the  same  mo- 
ment and  hurried  to  intercept  her,  but  with  a  slide  which 
carried  him  a  quarter  of  the  way  across  the  floor  the 
Bedouin  arrived  first,  and  before  the  others  had  come 
up  he  was  drifting  away  with  her  in  the  tide  of  the 
dancers. 

"  Allah  is  good  to  me  —  Flamencine,"  whispered  the 
camel-driver  as  he  drew  her  close  to  avoid  a  careless 
dancer. 

"  Why,  Flamencine?  "  demanded  a  carefully  altered 
voice,  from  which,  however,  the  music  had  not  been 
eliminated. 

"  Don't  you  remember?  "  The  Arab  stole  a  covert, 
identifying  glance  down  at  the  tip  of  one  ear  which 
showed  under  its  masking  of  brown  hair  —  an  ear  that 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     61 

looked  as  though  it  were  chiseled  from  the  pink  coral 
of  Capri.     He  quoted: 

' '  There  was  a  gipsy  maiden  within  the  forest  green, 
There  was  a  gipsy  maiden  who  shook  a  tambourine. 
The  stars  of  night  had  not  the  face, 
The  woodland  wind  had  not  the  grace, 
Of  Flamencine.'  " 

Then  the  music  stopped,  and  with  its  silencing  came 
the  monk,  the  clown,  the  grandee,  and  others. 

In  the  insistent  demand  of  the  many  the  Arab  had 
too  few  dances  with  the  Spanish  girl.  There  were 
Comanches,  Samurai,  policemen,  Zulus  and  courtiers, 
who,  seeing  her  dance,  discovered  that  their  immediate 
avocation  was  dancing  with  her. 

Yet  it  wanted  an  hour  of  unmasking  time  when  a 
Bedouin  led  a  gipsy  maiden  from  Andalusia  into  the 
deserted  library,  where  the  darkness  was  broken  only 
by  blazing  logs  on  an  open  hearth. 

When  they  were  alone  he  turned  to  her  anxiously. 
His  voice  was  freighted  with  appeal.  Her  face,  now 
unmasked,  wore  an  expression  of  stunned  misery. 

"Dear,"  he  asked,  "how  are  you?" 

She  gazed  at  the  flickering  logs.  "  I  should  think 
you  would  know,"  she  answered  wearily.  Then,  with 
a  mirthless  laugh,  she  spread  both  hands  toward  the 
blaze.  "  I'm  looking  ahead  —  I  can  see  it  all  there 


62  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

in  the  fire."  Her  fingers  convulsively  clenched  them- 
selves until  blue  marks  showed  against  the  pink  palms. 

He  pushed  a  chair  forward  for  her,  but  with  a  shake 
of  her  head  she  declined  it. 

"  Whoever  heard  of  a  gipsy  girl  sitting  in  a  leather 
chair?  "  she  demanded.  "  It's  more  like  —  like  some 
effete  princess." 

She  dropped  to  the  Persian  rug  and,  gathering  her 
knees  between  her  clasped  hands,  sat  looking  into  the 
dying  blaze.  "  For  a  few  brief  minutes  I  am  the 
gipsy  girl,"  she  added. 

"  And,"  he  said,  dropping  cross-legged  to  the  rug  at 
her  side,  "  when  the  caravan  halts  at  evening,  and 
prayers  have  been  said  facing  Mecca,  and  the  grunting 
camels  kneel,  to  be  unloaded,  neither  do  we,  the  gipsies 
of  the  desert,  sit  in  chairs."  He  swayed  slightly  to- 
ward her,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper.  As  the 
soft  touch  of  her  shoulder  brushed  him  and  electrified 
him,  his  cashmere-draped  arms  closed  around  her  and 
held  her  hungrily  to  him.  The  vagrant  maiden  of 
Andalusia  and  the  caravan-driver  of  Africa  sat  gazing 
together  at  the  glowing  pictures  in  the  logs  as  they 
turned  slowly  to  ashes. 

"  Cara,"  he  went  on  in  a  voice  of  pent-up  earnest- 
ness, "  we  be  nomads  —  we  two.  '  The  scarlet  of  the 
maples  can  shake  us  like  the  cry  of  bugles  going  by.' 
Come  away  with  me  while  there  is  time.  Let  us  follow 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     63 

out  our  destinies  where  gipsy  blood  calls  us;  in  the 
desert,  the  jungle,  wherever  you  say.  Let  your  fancy 
be  our  guide  —  your  heart  our  compass.  Suppose  " — 
he  paused  and,  with  one  outstretched  arm,  pointed  to 
the  fire  — "  suppose  that  to  be  a  camp-fire  —  what  do 
you  see  in  the  coals?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  she  said  wearily.  "  I 
see  a  throne,  a  life  with  all  the  confining  littleness  of 
a  prison,  with  none  of  the  breadth  of  an  empire.  I 
see  the  sacrifice  of  all  I  love.  I  see  year  upon  year 
of  purple  desolation.  .  .  .  Purple  is  the  color  of 
mourning  and  royalty." 

She  fell  silent,  and  he  spoke  slowly. 

"  I  see  the  desert,  many-hued,  like  an  opal  with  the 
setting  of  the  sun.  I  see  the  flickering  of  camp-fires 
and  the  palm-fringe  of  an  oasis.  I  see  the  tapering 
minarets  of  a  mosque,  and  the  long  booths  of  the 
bazaars.  I  smell  the  scent  of  the  perfume-seller's  stall, 
the  heavy  sweetness  of  attar  of  roses  ...  I  hear 
the  tinkle  of  camel  bells  .  .  .  There  comes  a 
change  ...  I  see  a  mountain-pass  and  a  mule- 
train  crawling  through  the  dust.  I  see  the  paths  that 
go  around  the  world.  Which  of  our  pictures  do  you 
prefer?  " 

She  gave  a  pained,  low  cry,  and  buried  her  face  pas- 
sionately on  his  shoulder.  "  Oh,  you  know,  you  know !  " 
she  cried,  in  a  piteous  voice.  "  And  you  love  me,  yet 


64  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

you  tempt  me  to  break  my  parole.  If  I  could  do  it 
and  be  freed  of  the  responsibility !  If  a  miracle  could 
work  itself!" 

"  Cara,"  he  whispered,  resolutely  steadying  himself, 
"  don't  forget  the  gospel  according  to  Jonesy.  You 
can't  dam  up  the  tributaries  of  the  heart.  Some  day 
you  must  come  to  me.  That  much  is  immutably  written. 
For  God's  sake  come  now  while  the  road  is  still  clear. 
Otherwise  we  shall  grope  our  ways  to  each  other,  even 
if  it  be  through  tragedy  —  through  hell  itself." 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  at  him  with  wide  eyes. 

"  I  know  it  — "  she  whispered  in  a  frightened  voice. 
"  I  know  it  —  and  yet  I  must  go  ahead." 

He  rose  and  lifted  her;  then  as  she  stood  clinging 
to  him  he  said:  "  I  ask  your  forgiveness  if  I've  made 
it  harder  —  and  one  boon.  Slip  away  with  me  and  give 
me  an  hour  with  you." 

"They  will  find  me.  Pagratide  and  Von  Ritz  will 
find  me,"  she  objected  helplessly.  "  They  won't  let  us 
be  alone  for  long." 

"  Listen,"  he  replied.  "  It  is  not  too  cold  and  the 
moon  is  brilliant.  It  is  the  last  real  moon  for  me. 
Come  with  me  in  my  car  for  a  while." 

"  You  must  not  make  love  to  me,"  she  stipulated. 
"  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  my  face  properly  composed 
—  and  if  you  make  love  to  me,  I  can't.  Besides,  when 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     65 

you  make  love  I'm  rather  afraid  of  you.  So  you 
mustn't." 

Then,  with  a  wild  spasmodic  gesture,  she  caught  the 
edges  of  his  cashmere  cloak  and  gripped  them  tightly 
in  both  hands  as  she  looked  up  into  his  eyes  and  im- 
petuously contradicted  herself. 

"  Yes,  please  do,"  she  appealed. 

He  laughed.  "Destiny  says  I  must  make  love  to 
you,"  he  asserted,  "  and  who  am  I  to  disobey  Destiny?  " 

Outside,  she  insisted  upon  waiting  by  the  bridge  while 
he  went  for  his  car.  So  he  turned  and  started  alone 
to  the  point  on  the  driveway  just  around  the  angle 
of  the  house,  where  McGuire,  pursuant  to  previous  or- 
ders, was  to  be  waiting  with  the  machine.  It  had  been 
only  an  hour  since  Benton  had  slipped  away  from  the 
dancers  and  consulted  with  McGuire  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wall,  instructing  him  explicitly  in  his  duties.  Mc- 
Guire was  to  wait  with  the  machine  ready  upon  call. 
The  lamps  were  not  to  be  lighted.  When  Benton  came, 
the  chauffeur  was  to  run  the  car  to  the  point  where 
a  lady  should  enter  it.  He  was  at  that  point  to  leave, 
without  words.  It  had  been  impressed  on  McGuire  that 
utter  silence  was  imperative.  The  chauffeur  was  then 
to  follow  in  the  runabout,  acting  as  a  reserve  in  the 
event  of  need.  Both  cars  were  to  take  a  certain  circui- 
tous route  to  a  point  on  the  shore  thirty  miles  distant, 


66  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  runabout  keeping  just  close  enough  to  hold  the 
first  car  in  sight.  McGuire  had  listened  and  under- 
stood. Yet  now  McGuire  was  missing,  together  with 
one  very  necessary  motor-car. 

As  Benton  stood,  boiling  with  wrath  at  the  miscarriage 
of  his  plans,  he  fancied  he  heard  the  soft  muffled  song 
of  his  motor  just  beyond  the  turn  where  the  road  circled 
the  house.  He  bent  and  held  a  lighted  match  close  to 
the  gravel.  On  a  muddied  spot  he  found  the  easily 
recognizable  tread  of  his  tires.  The  car  had  been  there. 
For  the  sake  of  speed  he  ran  to  the  garage  near  by 
and  took  a  swift  look  at  the  runabout.  It  was  wait- 
ing, and,  thanks  to  the  God  of  Machines,  would  start 
on  compression.  He  flung  himself  to  the  driver's  seat 
and  gave  it  the  spark.  Far  away  —  about  as  far  as 
the  bridge,  he  calculated  —  he  heard  one  short,  cautious 
blast  of  an  automobile  horn. 

Just  before  the  last  turn  brought  him  to  the  bridge, 
where  he  should  meet  Cara,  he  noticed  a  man  hurrying 
toward  him,  on  foot,  and  recognized  McGuire.  To- 
tally mystified,  he  slowed  down  the  machine. 

"  Get  in,  you  infernal  blockhead,"  he  called.  "  Tell 
me  about  it  as  we  go.  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

But  McGuire  performed  strangely.  He  clapped  one 
hand  to  his  forehead  and  looked  at  his  employer  out 
of  large,  wild  eyes.  "  Am  I  dippy?  My  God!  Am  I 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     67 

dippy?"  he  exclaimed,  repeating  the  question  over  and 
over  in  a  low,  trembling  voice. 

"  Apparently  you  are.  Get  in,  damn  you !  "  Benton 
ordered. 

"It's  weird,"  declared  McGuire.  "It's  damned 
weird." 

"  Why,  sir,"  he  ran  on,  talking  fast,  now  that  the 
first  shock  was  over  and  his  tongue  again  loosened. 
"  Either  I've  made  a  fool  mistake,  or  else  I'm  crazier 
than  hell.  I  waited  at  the  place  you  said.  You  — 
or  your  ghost  —  came  and  took  his  seat,  and  waved 
his  hand.  I  started  the  car  for  the  bridge.  He  didn't 
say  a  word.  At  the  bridge  I  jumped  out.  He  was 
you  —  and  yet  you  are  here  —  same  size  —  same  cos- 
tume—  same  beard  —  even  the  same  beads  around  the 
neck." 

They  had  almost  reached  the  bridge  and  were  slow- 
ing down  when  Benton,  scanning  the  road,  empty  in  the 
moonlight,  grasped  for  the  first  time  a  definite  suspicion 
of  what  had  happened. 

"  Cara! "  he  shouted.     "  Good  God,  where  is  she?  " 

The  chauffeur  leaned  over  and  shouted  into  his  ear. 
"  I'm  telling  you,  sir.  The  lady's  in  that  other  car 
—  with  that  other  edition  of  you.  And,  sir  —  beggin' 
your  pardon  —  they're  beatin'  it  like  hell !  " 

Benton's  only  answer  was  to  feed  gas  to  the  spark 


68  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

so  frantically  that  the  car  seemed  to  rise  from  the 
ground  and  shiver  before  it  settled  again.  Then  it  shot 
forward  and  reeled  crazily  into  a  speed  never  intended 
for  a  curving  road  at  night. 

The  moonlight  fell  on  a  gray  streak  of  a  car,  driven 
by  a  maniac  with  a  scarf  blowing  back  from  a  turban 
over  two  wildly  gleaming  eyes.  . 

Back  at  "  Idle  Times  "  a  Capuchin  monk,  wandering 
apart  from  the  dancers  in  consonance  with  the  austere 
proclaiming  of  his  garb,  was  studying  the  frivolous 
gamboling  of  a  school  of  fountain  gold-fish  in  the  con- 
servatory. He  looked  up,  scowling,  to  take  a  note  from 
a  servant. 

"  Colonel  Von  Ritz  said  to  hand  this  to  the  gentleman 
masquerading  as  a  monk,"  explained  the  man. 

"  Von  Ritz,"  growled  the  monk.     "  He  annoys  me." 

He  impatiently  tore  open  the  letter  and  scanned  it. 
His  brows  contracted  in  astonished  mystification,  then 
slowly  his  eyes  narrowed  and  kindled. 

The  scrawl  ran: 

"  Your  Highness :  If  you  see  neither  Mr.  Benton, 
masquerading  as  an  Arab,  her  Highness,  the  Princess, 
nor  myself  in  ten  minutes  from  the  time  of  receiv- 
ing this,  take  the  car  which  you  will  find  ready  in  the 
garage.  My  orderly  will  be  there  to  act  as  your 
chauffeur.  Follow  the  main  road  to  the  second  village. 
Turn  there  to  the  right,  and  drive  to  the  small  bay, 


IN  WHICH  ROMEO  BECOMES  DROMIO     69 

where  you  will  find  me  or  an  explanation.  I  have  been 
conducting  certain  investigations.  The  affair  is  urgent 
and  touches  matters  of  great  import  to  Europe  as  well 
as  to  Your  Highness." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  WHICH  DROMIO   BECOMES  ROMEO 

\\  7HEN  Cara,  waiting  at  the  bridge,  had  seen  the 
*  *  car  flash  up,  a  bearded  Bedouin  at  the  wheel,  she 
had  leaped  lightly  to  the  seat  beside  him,  without  wait- 
ing for  the  machine  to  come  to  a  full  stop ;  then  she 
had  thrown  herself  back  luxuriously  on  the  cushions  with 
a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  had  only  said :  "  Drive  me 
fast." 

For  a  long  time  she  lay  back,  drinking,  in  long 
draughts,  the  spiced  night  air,  frosted  only  enough  to 
give  it  flavor.  There  was  no  necessity  for  speech,  and 
above,  the  stars  glittered  lavishly,  despite  the  white 
light  of  the  moon. 

At  last  she  murmured  half-aloud  and  almost  content- 
edly :  "  *  Who  knows  but  the  world  may  end  to- 
night?"' 

Above  the  throbbing  purr  of  the  engine  which  had 
already  done  ten  miles,  the  man  beside  her  caught  the 
voice,  but  missed  the  words.  He  bent  forward. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  he  politely  inquired. 

At  the  question  she  started  violently,  and  both  hands 
70 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     71 

came  to  her  heart  with  a  spasmodic  movement.  Von 
Ritz  carried  the  car  around  an  ugly  rut. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Your  Highness,"  he  said,  in  a 
cold,  evenly  modulated  voice  which,  though  pitched  low, 
carried  clearly  above  the  noise  of  the  cylinders.  "  I 
may  call  you  'Your  Highness'  now,  may  I  not?  We 
are  quite  alone.  Or  do  you  still  prefer  that  I  respect 
your  incognita?  " 

The  girl's  eyes  blazed  upon  him  until  he  could  feel 
their  intense  focusing,  though  he  kept  his  own  fixed 
unbendingly  on  the  road  ahead.  Finally  she  mastered 
her  anger  enough  to  speak. 

"  Colonel  Von  Ritz,"  she  commanded,  "  you  will  take 
me  back  at  once !  "  She  drew  herself  as  far  away  from 
him  as  the  space  on  the  seat  permitted. 

"  Your  Highness's  commands  are  supreme."  The 
man  spoke  in  the  same  even  voice.  "  I  intend  taking 
Your  Highness  back  —  when  it  is  safer  for  Your  High- 
ness to  go  back." 

He  turned  the  car  suddenly  to  the  right  and  sped 
along  the  narrower  road  that  led  away  from  the  main 
thoroughfare. 

"  You  will  take  me  back,  now.  I  had  not  supposed 
that  to  a  gentleman  — "  Her  voice  choked  into  silence 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  angry  tears. 

"  Your  Highness  misunderstands,"  he  said  coldly. 
"  I  obey  the  throne.  If  I  live  long  enough  to  serve 


12  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

it  in  another  reign,  Your  Highness  will  be  Your 
Majesty.  Yet  even  then  will  jour  commands  be  no 
more  supreme  to  me  —  no  more  sacred  —  than  now. 
But  even  then,  Your  Highness  — " 

'*  Call  me  Miss  Carstow,"  she  interrupted  in  impas- 
sioned anger.  "  I  will  have  my  freedom  for  to-night 
at  least." 

"  Yet  even  then,  Miss  Carstow,"  he  calmly  resumed, 
"  when  danger  threatens  you  or  your  throne,  I  shall  take 
such  means  as  I  can  to  avert  that  danger,  as  I  am 
doing  now.  Even  though  " —  for  a  moment  the  cold, 
metallic  evenness  left  his  voice  and  a  human  note  stole 
into  his  words  — "  even  though  the  reward  be  contempt." 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  Your  High  —  Miss  Carstow," —  Von  Ritz  spoke 
with  a  deferential  finality  — "  believe  me,  some  things 
are  inevitable." 

Suddenly  the  car  stopped. 

The  girl  made  a  movement  as  though  she  would  rise, 
but  the  man's  arm  quietly  stretched  itself  across  before 
her,  not  touching  her,  but  forming  an  effective  barrier. 

She  did  not  speak,  but  her  eyes  blazed  indignantly. 
For  the  first  time  he  was  able  to  return  her  gaze  directly, 
and  as  she  looked  into  the  unflinching  gray  pupils,  un- 
der the  level  brows,  there  was  a  momentary  combat,  then 
her  own  dropped.  He  sat  for  a  space  with  his  arm 
outstretched,  holding  her  prisoner  in  the  seat. 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     73 

"  Your  Highness  " —  he  spoke  as  impersonally  as  a 
judge  ruling  from  the  bench — "I  must  remind  you 
again  that  I  am  your  escort  to-night  only  in  order  that 
someone  else  may  not  be.  What  his  plans  were,  I  need 
not  now  say,  but  I  know,  and  it  became  my  duty  to 
thwart  him.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  explain  how  I 
discovered  Mr.  Benton's  purpose.  It  was  not  easy,  but 
it  has  been  accomplished.  I  have  acquainted  myself 
with  his  movements,  his  intention,  and  his  preparations ; 
I  have  even  counterfeited  his  masquerade  and  stolen  his 
car.  There  are  bigger  things  at  stake  than  individual 
wishes.  I  stand  for  the  throne.  Mr.  Benton  has 
played  a  daring  game  —  and  lost." 

He  paused,  and  she  found  herself  watching  with  a 
strange  fascination  the  face  almost  marble-like  in  its 
steadiness. 

"  Some  day  —  perhaps  soon,"  he  went  on,  the  arm 
unmoved,  "  you  will  be  Queen  of  Galavia."  She  shud- 
dered. "  You  can  then  strip  away  my  epaulets  if  you 
choose.  For  the  moment,  however,  I  must  regard  you 
as  a  prisoner  of  war  and  ask  your  parole,  as  a  gentle- 
man and  an  officer,  not  to  leave  the  car  while  I  investi- 
gate the  trouble  with  the  motor.  Otherwise — "  he 
added  composedly,  "  we  shall  have  to  remain  as  we  are." 

She  hesitated,  her  chin  thrown  up  and  her  eyes  blaz- 
ing; then,  with  a  glance  at  the  unmoving  arm,  she 
bowed  reluctant  assent. 


74  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  All  I  promise  is  to  remain  in  the  car,"  she  said. 
"  May  I  go  back  into  the  tonneau  ?  " 

Satisfying  himself  that  the  engine  was  temporarily 
dead,  he  responded,  with  a  half-smile,  "  That  promise  I 
think  is  sufficient." 

He  bent  to  his  task  of  diagnosis.  After  much  futile 
spinning  of  the  crank,  he  rose  and  contemplated  the 
stalled  engine. 

"  Since  this  machine  went  out  with  lamps  unlighted, 
and  I  have  no  matches  in  this  garb,  I  must  go  to  that 
farmhouse  up  the  hillside  —  where  the  light  shines 
through  the  trees  — .  Will  Your  Highness  regard 
your  parole  as  effective  until  my  return,  not  to  leave 
the  car?  Yes?  I  thank  Your  Highness;  I  shall  not  be 
long." 

The  girl  for  answer  honked  the  horn  in  several  loud 
blasts,  and  he  stopped  with  a  murmured  apology  to 
silence  it  by  tearing  off  the  bulb  and  throwing  it  to 
one  side. 

The  Colonel  turned  and  took  his  way  through  the 
woods,  statuesquely  upright  and  spectral  in  his  long 
Arab  cloak. 

Benton  and  McGuire  had  just  passed  the  crossing 
where  Von  Ritz  had  left  the  main  road,  when  McGuire's 
quick  ear  caught  the  familiar  tooting  of  the  other  horn 
and  brought  his  hand  to  his  employer's  arm.  The  car 
was  stopped,  and  McGuire,  by  match-light,  examined 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     75 

the  road  with  its  frosty  mud  unmarked  by  fresh  auto- 
mobile tracks,  save  those  running  back  from  their  own 
tires. 

The  runabout  turned  and  slipped  along  cautiously 
to  the  rear,  watchful  for  byways.  At  the  cross-road 
McGuire  was  out  again.  His  match,  held  close  to  the 
mud  and  gravel,  revealed  the  tread  of  familiar  tires. 

"All  right,  sir,"  he  briefly  reported.  "The  other 
edition  went  this  track." 

With  a  twist  of  the  wheel  Benton  was  again  on  the 
trail.  Back  in  the  side  lane  stood  a  car  in  which  a 
girl  sat  alone,  solemnly  indignant. 

"  Cara !  "  Benton  was  standing  on  the  step.  His 
voice  was  tremulous  with  solicitude  and  perplexed 
anxiety.  "Cara!"  he  repeated.  "What  does  it 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  responded  coolly.  "  Some- 
thing seems  to  be  broken." 

"  I  don't  mean  that."  McGuire  was  already  inves- 
tigating. "  What  does  it  mean?  " 

She  sighed  wearily. 

"  When  I  foolishly  agreed  to  play  Juliet  to  your 
Romeo,"  she  informed  him,  and  her  tones  were  frigid, 
"  I  didn't  know  that  your  Romeo  was  really  only  a 
Dromio.  The  other  edition  of  you  " —  he  flinched  at 
the  words,  and  McGuire  choked  violently  — "  is  back 
there,  I  believe,  hunting  for  matches." 


76  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  She's  all  right,  sir,"  interrupted  McGuire  in  tri- 
umph. "  She'll  travel  now.  It's  only  diconnected 
spark  plugs  and  a  short  circuiting." 

"  Travel,  then !  "  snapped  Benton.  "  Leave  the  run- 
about here.  The  other  gentleman  may  prefer  not  to 
walk  home." 

As  he  swung  himself  into  the  tonneau,  the  chauffeur 
had  already  seized  the  wheel  and  the  car  was  backing 
for  the  turn.  Far  back  up  the  hillside  there  was  a 
crashing  of  underbrush.  A  spectral  figure,  struggling 
with  the  unaccustomed  drapery  of  a  Bedouin  robe, 
emerged  from  the  woods  into  the  open,  and  halted  in 
momentary  astonishment. 

"  I  believe  I  am  under  parole  —  to  the  other 
Dromio  —  not  to  run  away,"  she  suggested  wearily. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right ;  I'm  doing  this  and  I  have  no 
treaty  with  Galavia,"  replied  the  gentleman  pleasantly. 
"  Hit  her  up  a  bit,  McGuire." 

He  took  one  of  the  hands  that  lay  wearily  in  Cara's 
lap  and  she  did  not  withdraw  it.  She  only  lay  back  in 
the  leather  upholstery  and  said  nothing.  Finally  he 
bent  nearer. 

"  Dearest,"  he  said.     There  was  no  answer. 

"  Dearest,"  he  whispered  again. 

She  only  turned  her  head  and  smiled  forgiveness. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  tired  —  so  tired  of  all  of  it,"  she  sighed. 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     77 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  I  wish  someone  bigger  that  I  am  would 
take  me  away  to  a  place  where  they  had  never  heard  of 
a  throne  —  somewhere  beyond  the  Milky  Way." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  the  spangle-crowned 
gipsy  head  fell  heavily  on  his  shoulder.  She  stretched 
up  both  arms  towards  the  stars,  and  the  moonlight 
glinted  from  her  gilt  bracelets. 

"  Somewhere  beyond  the  Milky  Way,"  she  murmured, 
then  collapsed  like  a  tired  child  and  lay  still. 

"Dearest,"  he  whispered,  "I'll  tell  you  a  secret." 
He  paused  and  listened  to  the  rhythmic  cylinders 
throbbing  a  racing  pulse;  he  looked  back  at  the  white 
band  of  road  that  was  being  flung  out  behind  them 
like  thread  from  a  falling  spool.  He  held  her  fiercely 
to  him  and  kissed  her.  "  I'll  tell  you  a  secret.  You 
are  being  stolen.  The  I  sis  is  waiting  in  a  little  cove, 
and  there  is  steam  in  her  engines,  and  a  chaplain  on 
board.  If  it's  necessary  I  shall  run  up  the  skull  and 
cross-bones  at  her  masthead.  Do  you  hear?  "  Then, 
with  a  less  piratical  voice :  "  Dearest,  I  love  you." 

She  looked  up  drowsily  into  his  eyes.  "You  don't 
have  to  be  such  a  boa-constrictor,"  she  suggested. 
"  You  are  not  a  cave-man,  after  all,  you  know,  if  you 
are  taking  a  lady  without  asking  her."  Then  she  con- 
tentedly whispered :  "  I'm  going  to  sleep."  And  she 
did. 

As  the  car  at  last  swept  around  a  curve  and  took  the 


78  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

shore  road,  Benton  caught,  far  away  as  yet,  the  red 
and  green  glint  of  tiny  port  and  starboard  lights  on 
the  bridge  of  the  his,  and  the  long  ruby  and  emerald 
shafts  quivering  beneath  in  the  calm  waters  of  the  bay. 
In  the  light  of  a  low  moon,  swinging  down  the  mid- 
night sky,  the  trim  silhouette  of  the  yacht  stood  out 
boldly. 

Cara,  after  sleeping  through  the  rowboat  stage  of 
the  journey,  awoke  on  the  deck  of  the  Isis  and  gazed 
wonderingly  about.  In  her  ears  was  the  sound  of 
anchor  chains  upon  the  capstan. 

"Is  it  a  dream?  "she  asked. 

"  It  is  a  dream  to  me,  but  I  am  going  to  make  it 
real,"  he  responded. 

She  went  to  the  rail.     He  followed  her. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  let  you,  but  I  was  so  tired,"  she 
said,  "  I  hardly  knew  where  the  dream  began  and  the 
reality  ended.  Ah,  I  wish  the  dream  could  come 
true." 

"  This  one  is  to  come  true,  Cara,"  he  whispered. 

She  shook  her  head.     "  Stand  still !  "  she  commanded. 

He  was  bending  forward  with  his  elbows  on  the  rail. 
Suddenly,  with  something  like  a  stifled  sob,  she  caught 
his  head  in  both  arms  and  held  him  close,  so  close  that 
he  heard  her  heart  pounding  and  her  breath  coming 
with  spasmodic  gasps.  He  put  out  his  arms,  but  she 
held  him  off. 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     79 

"  No,  no ;  don't  touch  me  now  —  only  listen !  " 

He  waited  a  moment  before  she  spoke  again. 

"  You  said  I  was  your  prisoner."  Her  voice 
dropped  in  a  tremor  as  though  the  tears  would  prevail, 
but  she  steadied  it  and  went  on.  "  I  wish  I  were. 
Always  I  am  your  prisoner,  but  I  must  go  back.  It 
is  because  it  is  written." 

He  straightened  up  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  I 
know  how  you  have  settled  it,"  he  said,  "but  I  have 
stolen  you.  The  anchor  is  coming  up.  You  love  me 

—  I  have  claimed  what  is  mine.     It  is  now  beyond  your 
power,  your  responsibility." 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  she  softly  denied.  "  I  will  not  marry 
you  —  but  I  love  you  —  I  love  you !  " 

"  You  mean  that  if  I  hold  you  my  prisoner  you  will 
still  not  be  my  wife?  "  he  incredulously  demanded. 

Slowly  she  nodded  her  head. 

The  man  gazed  off  with  the  eyes  of  one  stunned  and 
slowly  fought  himself  back  into  control  before  he 
trusted  his  voice.  After  a  while,  he  raised  his  face  and 
spoke  in  fragmentary  sentences,  his  voice  pitched  low, 
his  words  broken. 

"  But  you  said  —  just  now  —  back  there  on  the  road 

—  you     wished     someone     stronger    than     yourself  — • 
would  take  you  away  somewhere  —  beyond  the  Milky 
Way." 

His  tones  strengthened  and  suddenly  he  almost  sang 


80  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

out  with  recovered  resolution,  speaking  buoyantly  and 
triumphantly. 

"  Dearest,  I  am  stronger  than  you,  and  I'm  going 
to  take  you  away  —  I'm  going  to  take  you  beyond  the 
Milky  Way,  to  the  uttermost  stars  of  Love.  How  can 
it  matter  to  me  how  far,  if  you  are  there?  " 

Again  she  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  dear,"  she  whispered,  "  you  are  not  so  strong 
as  I,  in  this,  because  I  am  strong  enough  to  say  No 
when  my  heart  says  only  Yes  —  and  because  Fate  is 
stronger  than  any  of  us." 

"  Boat  ahoy ! "  came  a  voice  from  the  crow's  nest. 

"  They  have  come  for  you,"  he  said,  speaking  as 
through  a  fog.  "  Show  them  here,"  he  shouted  to  an 
officer  who  was  hurrying  to  the  gangway. 

Two  figures  came  over  the  side,  and  slowly  followed 
the  first  officer  forward.  One  was  a  Capuchin  monk, 
bearing  himself  rigidly;  at  his  side  strode  a  Bedouin, 
bedraggled,  but  erect  and  military  of  bearing.  The 
original  Arab  turned  with  a  sudden  sag  of  the  shoulders 
and  looked  helplessly  out  at  the  path  of  silver  that 
stretched  across  the  water  below,  to  the  moon,  now 
sunk  close  to  the  horizon.  He  waved  one  hand  in  a 
gesture  of  submission  and  despair,  and  stood  silent. 

The  gipsy  girl,  standing  near,  took  a  sudden  step 
forward  and  stood  close  to  him  as  the  others  ap- 
proached. 


IN  WHICH  DROMIO  BECOMES  ROMEO     81 

"  They  may  take  me  back  if  they  wish  to,  now,"  she 
said,  with  a  suddenly  upflaring  defiance.  "  But  they 
shall  find  me  like  this !  "  And  she  flung  her  arms  about 
his  neck  and  kissed  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    PRINCESS    CONSULTS    JONESY 

PT1HE  coldness  of  the  moonlight  killed  the  pallor  of 
•*•  Karyl's  face,  but  added  a  note  of  stark  accentua- 
tion to  his  set  chin  and  labored  self-containment. 
Von  Ritz,  despite  his  bedraggled  masquerade  was  as 
composed  and  expressionless  as  though  he  had  seen 
nothing  beyond  the  expected.  With  Von  Ritz  nothing 
was  beyond  the  expected. 

He  had  to-night  counterfeited  Benton's  disguise; 
stolen  Benton's  car;  substituted  himself  for  the  Ameri- 
can and  made  a  decisive  effort  to  interrupt  the  kidnap- 
ing of  a  Queen. 

Finding  himself  checkmated,  he  had  joined  forces 
with  the  Prince  and  brought  the  pursuit  to  a  suc- 
cessful termination.  His  manner  now  was  precisely 
what  it  had  been  last  night,  when  his  only  excitement 
had  been  a  game  of  billiards.  Men  who  knew  him 
would  have  told  you  that  his  manner  had  been  the 
same  on  a  certain  red  and  smoky  day  when  the  order 
of  Takavo  had  been  pinned  on  his  breast,  in  the  reek 
and  noise  of  a  battlefield. 

82 


THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY      83 

After  a  moment  of  tense  silence,  Benton  took  a  step 
forward. 

"  At  any  suitable  time,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  too  low 
for  Cara  to  catch,  "  I  shall,  of  course,  be  entirely  at 
your  service." 

Pagratide  drew  a  labored  breath,  but  when  he  raised 
his  head  it  was  to  lift  his  brows  inquiringly. 

"  For  what? "  he  asked  in  an  equally  low  tone. 
"  Have  I  asked  any  questions  ?  "  In  a  matter-of-fact 
voice  he  added:  "It  is  growing  late.  If  Miss 
Carstow  has  finished  the  inspection  of  your  yacht,  I 
suggest  a  return." 

Benton  recognized  the  other's  refusal  to  read  his 
motive.  After  all  that  was  the  best  course;  the  only 
course.  Pagratide  stepped  forward. 

"  Mr.  Benton  had  the  pleasure  of  driving  you  down 
— "  he  suggested,  "  may  I  have  the  same  honor,  re- 
turning? " 

The  girl  met  the  eyes  of  the  Prince,  with  defiance  in 
her  own. 

"  I  am  not  a  child !  "  she  vehemently  declared.  "  We 
may  as  well  be  honest  with  each  other.  If  he  had 
chosen  to  have  it  so,  you  could  not  have  come  aboard. 
I  must  obey  the  decrees  of  State ! "  She  paused,  then 
impulsively  swept  on :  "I  can  force  myself  to  do  what 
I  must  do,  but  I  cannot  compel  my  heart  —  that  is 


84  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

his,  utterly  his."  She  raised  both  hands.  "  Now  you 
know,"  she  said.  "  You  may  decide." 

Karyl  inclined  his  head. 

"  I  have  questioned  nothing,"  he  repeated.  "  Will 
you  honor  me  by  returning  in  my  car?  " 

Cara  tilted  her  chin  rebelliously. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  I  shall.  My  vaca- 
tion ends  to-morrow  if  you  still  wish  it,  but  to-night  it 
has  not  ended.  I  return  with  Mr.  Benton." 

Pagratide  stiffened  painfully,  but  with  supreme  self- 
mastery  he  forced  a  smile  as  though  he  had  asked  noth- 
ing more  than  a  dance  —  and  had  found  it  engaged. 

"  I  must  submit,"  he  replied  in  a  steady  voice.  "  I 
even  understand.  But  you  will  agree  with  me  that 
they  " —  with  a  gesture  toward  the  direction  from  which 
they  had  come  — "  had  best  know  nothing." 

Benton  and  Von  Ritz  went  to  the  gangway,  where  the 
yachtsman  bent  forward  to  give  some  direction  to  the 
boat  crew  below. 

"  Karyl !  "  The  girl  moved  impulsively  toward  the 
man  she  must  marry,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm. 
"  Karyl,"  she  said  plaintively,  "  if  you  only  wanted  to 
marry  me  for  State  reasons  —  it  would  be  different. 
It  wouldn't  hurt  me  then  to  hurt  you.  You  mean  so 
much  as  a  friend,  but  I  can  never  be  in  love  with  you. 
You  are  being  unfair  with  yourself  —  if  you  go  on. 
I  must  be  honest  with  you." 


THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY      85 

Pagratide  spoke  slowly,  and  his  voice  carried  the 
tremor  of  feeling. 

"  You  have  always  been  honest  with  me,  and  I  will 
make  you  love  me.  Until  you  marry  me  I  have  no 
privilege  to  question  you.  When  you  do,  I  shall  not 
have  to  question  you."  He  leaned  forward  and  spoke 
confidently.  "  I  would  marry  you  if  you  hated  me  — 
and  then  I  would  win  your  love ! " 

An  hour  later  the  Spanish  gipsy  girl,  having  shown 
herself  in  the  emptying  ball-room  with  ingenious  ex- 
cuses for  her  long  absence,  took  refuge  in  her  own 
apartments. 

On  sailing  day,  Benton,  at  the  pier,  watched  the 
steamer  stand  out  into  the  river  between  the  coming  and 
going  of  ferry-boats  and  tugs.  About  him  stamped 
the  usual  farewell  throng  with  hats  raised  and  hand- 
kerchiefs a-flutter.  The  music  of  the  ship's  band  grew 
faint  as  a  wider  and  wider  gap  of  water  opened  between 
the  wharf  and  the  liner's  gray  hull. 

Gradually  the  crowd  scattered  back  through  the 
great  barn-like  spaces  of  the  pier-house  to  be  re- 
absorbed  by  cabs,  motors  and  surface-cars  into  the  main 
arteries  of  the  city's  life.  It  was  over.  Bon  voyage 
had  been  said.  One  more  ship  had  put  out  to  sea. 

Benton  stood  looking  after  a  slim  figure  in  a  blue 
traveling  gown  and  dark  furs,  pressed  against  the 
after-rail,  her  handkerchief  waving  in  the  raw  wind. 


86  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Most  of  the  sea-going  ones  had  retreated  into  the 
shelter  of  the  saloon  or  cabin,  but  she  remained. 

Van  Bristow,  shivering  at  his  friend's  elbow,  did  not 
suggest  turning  back. 

Cara  stood,  still  looking  shoreward,  a  furrow  between 
her  brows,  her  cheeks  pale,  her  fingers  tightly  gripping 
the  rail.  She  was  holding  with  that  grip  to  all  her 
shaken  self-command. 

She  saw  the  fang-edged  skyline  of  lower  Manhattan 
lifting  its  gray  shafts  through  wet  streamers  of  fog ; 
she  saw  flotillas  of  squat  ferry-boats  shouldering  their 
ways  against  the  sullen  heave  of  the  river's  tide-water; 
she  heard  the  discordant  shriek  of  their  steam  throats ; 
she  saw  the  tilting  swoop  of  a  hundred  gulls,  buffeting 
the  wind;  but  she  was  conscious  only  of  the  vista  of 
oily  water  widening  between  herself  and  him. 

Von  Ritz  had  long  since  drifted  into  the  smoking- 
room  where  the  men  were  christening  the  voyage  with 
brandy-and-soda  and  dropping  into  tentative  groups, 
regardful  of  future  poker  games. 

Pagratide,  at  Cara's  elbow,  was  silent,  respecting  her 
silence. 

When  at  last  the  two  had  the  deck  to  themselves  and 
Manhattan  had  become  a  shadowy  and  ragged  mono- 
tone, she  turned  and  smiled.  It  was  a  smile  of  accept- 
ing the  inevitable.  He  went  with  her  to  the  forward 


THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY      87 

deck  where  her  staterooms  were  situated,  and  left  her 
there  in  silence. 

Von  Ritz,  standing  apart  near  the  threshold  of  the 
smokeroom,  heard  his  name  paged  almost  before  the 
speaker  had  entered  the  door,  and  turned  to  take  from 
the  hand  of  the  bearer  a  Marconigram  just  relayed 
from  shore.  He  read  it  and  for  an  instant  a  look  of 
pain  crossed  the  features  that  rarely  yielded  to  expres- 
sion. Then  he  sought  out  Karyl's  stateroom. 

Karyl  turned  wearily  from  the  wintry  picture  of  a 
sullenly  heaving  sea,  to  answer  the  rap  on  the  door. 
His  face  did  not  brighten  as  he  recognized  Von  Ritz. 

The  Colonel  was  that  type  of  being  upon  whom 
men  may  depend  or  whom  they  must  fear.  Whenever 
there  was  need,  Karyl  had  come  to  know  that  there  would 
be  Von  Ritz,  but  also  there  went  with  him  an  austerity 
and  an  impersonality  that  robbed  him  of  the  grati- 
tude and  love  he  might  have  claimed. 

Now  there  was  a  note  almost  surly  in  the  expression 
with  which  the  Prince  looked  up  to  greet  his  father's 
confidential  representative. 

"  Well?  "  he  demanded. 

For  answer  the  officer  held  out  the  message. 

Karyl  puckered  his  brows  over  the  intricacies  of  the 
code  and  handed  it  back. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  construe  it,"  he  commanded. 


88  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  The  King,"  said  Von  Ritz,  "  is  ill.  His  Majesty 
wishes  to  instruct  you  in  certain  matters  before  — " 
He  broke  off  with  something  like  a  catch  in  his  voice, 
then  continued  calmly.  "  Recovery  is  despaired  of, 
though  death  may  not  be  immediate." 

Karyl  turned  away,  not  wishing  the  soldier  to  see 
the  tears  he  felt  in  his  eyes,  and  Von  Ritz  discreetly 
withdrew  as  far  as  the  door.  There  he  paused,  and 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  inquired : 

"  Her  Highness  goes  to  Maritzburg  —  to  her  father's 
Court  —  I  presume  ?  " 

With  his  back  still  turned,  the  Prince  nodded. 
"Why?  "he  demanded. 

"  Because  —  the  message  holds  no  hope  — "  Von 
Ritz  paused,  then  added  quietly  " —  and  if  Your  High- 
ness is  called  upon  to  mount  the  throne,  it  is  advisable 
to  hasten  the  marriage." 

He  backed  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

In  her  own  cabin  the  girl  had  bolted  the  door.  At 
the  small  desk  of  her  suite-de-luxe  she  sat  with  her  head 
on  her  crossed  arms.  For  a  half-hour  she  remained 
motionless. 

Finally  she  rose  and,  with  uncertain  hands,  opened 
a  suitcase,  drawing  from  its  place  among  filmy  fabrics 
and  feminine  essentials  a  small,  squat  figure  of  time- 
corroded  clay.  The  little  Inca  huaca  had  perhaps 
looked  with  that  same  unseeing  squint  upon  Princesses 


THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY   89 

of  other  dynasties  so  long  dead  that  their  heartbreaks 
and  ecstasies  were  now  the  same  —  nothing. 

She  placed  the  image  before  her  and  rested  her  chin 
on  one  hand,  gazing  at  its  grotesque  and  ancient  visage. 

Her  eyes  slowly  filled  with  tears.  Again  she  dropped 
her  face  on  her  arms  and  the  tears  overflowed. 


Benton  and  Bristow  had  been  sitting  without  speech 
as  their  motor  threaded  its  way  through  the  traffic 
along  Fourteenth  Street,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
chauffeur  had  turned  north  on  Fifth  Avenue  that  either 
spoke.  Then  Benton  roused  himself  out  of  seeming 
lethargy  to  inquire  with  suddenness :  "  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  bull-fight  we  saw  in  Seville?  " 

His  companion  looked  up,  suppressing  his  surprise 
at  a  question  so  irrelevant. 

"  You  mean  the  Easter  Sunday  performance,"  he 
asked,  "  when  that  negligent  banderillero  was  gored?  " 

"  Just  so,"  assented  Benton.  "  Do  you  remember 
the  chap  we  met  afterwards  at  one  of  the  cafes?  He 
was  being  feted  and  flattered  for  the  brilliancy  of  his 
work  in  the  ring.  His  name  was  Blanco." 

"  Sure  I  remember  him."  Van  talked  glibly,  pleased 
that  the  conversation  had  turned  into  channels  so  im- 
personal. "  He  was  a  fine-looking  chap  with  the  grace 
of  a  Velasquez  dancing-girl  and  the  nerve  of  a  bull- 


90  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

terrier.  I  remember  he  was  more  like  a  grandee  than 
a  toreador.  We  had  him  dine  with  us  —  hard  bread 
—  black  olives  —  fish  —  bad  wine  —  all  sorts  of  native 
truck.  For  the  rest  of  our  stay  in  Seville  he  was  our 
inseparable  companion.  Do  you  remember  how  the 
street  gamins  pointed  us  out?  Why,  it  was  like  walk- 
ing down  Broadway  with  your  arm  linked  in  that  of 
Jim  Jeffries ! " 

He  paused,  somewhat  disconcerted  by  his  companion's 
steady  gaze;  then,  taking  a  fresh  start,  he  went  on, 
talking  fast. 

"  Besides  sticking  bulls,  he  could  discuss  several 
topics  in  several  languages.  I  recall  that  he  had  been 
educated  for  the  Church.  If  he  hadn't  felt  the  lure 
of  the  strenuous  life,  he  might  have  been  celebrating 
Mass  instead  of  playing  guide  for  us.  In  the  end  he'd 
have  won  a  cardinal's  hat." 

The  fixity  of  the  other's  stare  at  last  chilled  and 
quelled  his  chatter  to  an  embarrassed  silence.  He  real- 
ized that  the  object  of  his  mild  subterfuge  was  trans- 
parent. 

"  I'm  after  his  address  —  not  his  biography,"  sug- 
gested Benton  coolly.  "  His  name  was  Manuel  Blanco, 
wasn't  it?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  believe  it  was.  What  do  you  want 
with  him?" 

"  Never  mind  that,"  returned  his  friend.     "  Do  you 


THE  PRINCESS  CONSULTS  JONESY      91 

happen  to  know  where  he  lived?  I  seem  to  recall  that 
you  promised  to  write  him  frequent  letters." 

"  By  Jove,  so  I  did,"  acknowledged  Van  with  humility. 
"  I  must  get  busy.  He  is  a  good  sort.  His  ad- 
dress — "  He  paused  to  search  through  his  pocket- 
book  for  a  small  tablet  dedicated  to  names  and  num- 
bers, then  added :  "  His  address  is  Numero  18,  Calle 
Isaac  Peral,  Cadiz." 

Benton  was  scribbling  the  direction  on  the  back  of 
an  envelope. 

"  You  needn't  grow  penitent  and  start  a  belated  cor- 
respondence," he  suggested.  "  I  am  going  to  write 
him  myself  —  and  I'm  going  to  visit  him." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    TOREADOR    APPEARS 

Q^LOWLY,  with  a  gesture  almost  subconscious, 
^-^  Benton-  slipped  an  unopened  envelope  from  his 
breast  pocket;  turned  it  over;  looked  at  it  and  slipped 
it  back,  still  unopened.  Then,  leaning  heavily  on  his 
elbow,  he  gazed  off,  frowning,  over  the  rail  of  the 
yacht's  forward  deck. 

The  waters  that  lap  the  quays  and  wharves  of  Old 
Cadiz,  green  as  jade  and  quiet  as  farm-yard  pools, 
were  darkening  into  inkiness  toward  shore.  White 
walls  that  had  been  like  ivory  were  turning  into  ashy 
gray  behind  the  Bateria  San  Carlos  and  the  pillars  of 
the  Entrada.  The  molten  sun  was  sinking  into  a  rich 
orange  sky  beyond  the  Moorish  dome  and  Christian 
towers  of  the  cathedral. 

Shafts  of  red  and  green  wavered  and  quaked  in  the 
black  dock  waters. 

Between  the  hulks  of  cork-  and  salt-freighters,  the 
steam  yacht  Isis  slipped  with  as  graceful  a  motion  as 
that  of  the  gulls.  Then  when  the  anchor  chains  ran 
gratingly  out,  Benton  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  to 
his  cabin. 


THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS  93 

Behind  a  bolted  door  he  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
sat  motionless.  Finally  the  right  hand  wandered  me- 
chanically to  his  breast  pocket  and  brought  out  the 
envelope.  He  read  for  the  thousandth  time  the  en- 
dorsement in  the  corner. 

"  Not  to  be  opened  until  the  evening  of  March  5th," 
and  under  that,  "  I  love  you." 

There  was  another  envelope;  an  outer  one  much 
rubbed  from  the  pocket.  It  was  directed  in  her  hand 
and  the  blurred  postmark  bore  a  date  in  February. 
He  could  have  described  every  mark  upon  the  enclos- 
ing cover  with  the  precision  of  a  careful  detective. 
When  his  impatient  fingers  had  first  torn  off  the  end, 
only  to  be  confronted  by  the  order :  "  Not  to  be 
opened  until  the  evening  of  March  5th,"  he  had  fallen 
back  on  studying  outward  marks  and  indications.  In 
the  first  place,  it  had  been  posted  from  Puntal,  and  in- 
stead of  the  familiar  violet  stamp  of  Maritzburg,  with 
which  her  other  letters  had  been  franked  during  the 
two  months  past,  this  stamp  was  pink,  and  its  medallion 
bore  the  profile  of  Karyl. 

That  she  had  left  Maritzburg,  and  that  she  had 
written  him  a  message  to  be  sealed  for  a  month,  meant 
that  the  date  of  March  5th  had  significance.  That 
she  was  in  Gala  via  meant  that  the  significance  was  — 
he  winced. 

On  the  calendar  of  a  bronze  desk-set,  the  first  four 


94  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

days  of  March  were  already  cancelled.  Now,  taking 
up  a  blue  pencil,  he  crossed  off  the  number  five.  After 
that  he  looked  at  his  watch.  It  wanted  one  minute 
of  six.  He  held  the  timepiece  before  him  while  the 
second-hand  ticked  its  way  once  around  its  circle,  then 
with  feverish  impatience  he  tore  the  end  from  the  en- 
velope. 

Benton's  face  paled  a  little  as  he  drew  out  the 
many  pages  covered  with  a  woman's  handwriting,  but 
there  was  no  one  to  see  that  or  to  notice  the  tremor  of 
his  fingers. 

For  a  moment  he  held  the  pages  off,  seeing  only 
the  "Dearest"  at  the  top,  and  the  wild  way  the  pen 
had  raced,  forming  almost  shapeless  characters. 

"  Dearest,"  she  said  in  part,  "  I  write  now  because  I 
must  turn  to  someone  —  because  my  heart  must  speak  or 
break.  All  day  I  must  smile  as  befits  royalty,  and  act 
as  befits  one  whose  part  is  written  for  her.  Unless 
there  be  an  outlet,  there  must  be  madness.  I  have  en- 
closed this  envelope  in  another  and  enjoined  you  not 
to  read  it  until  March  5th.  Then  it  will  be  too  late 
for  you  to  come  to  me.  If  you  came  to-night,  you 
would  find  me  hurrying  out  to  meet  you  and  to  sur- 
render. Duty  would  so  gladly  lay  down  its  arms  to 
Love,  dear,  and  desert  the  fight. 

"  To-night  I  have  slipped  away  from  the  uniforms, 
the  tawdry  mockery  of  a  puppet  court,  to  find  the 


THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS  95 

pitiful  comfort  of  rehearsing  my  heart-ache  to  you, 
who  own  my  heart.  In  my  life  here  every  hour  is 
mapped,  and  I  seem  to  move  from  cell  to  cell.  So 
many  obsequious  jailers  who  call  themselves  courtiers 
stand  about  and  seem  to  watch  me,  that  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  to  ask  permission  to  draw  my  breath.  Out  in 
the  narrow  streets  of  this  little  picture  town,  I  see 
dark-skinned,  bare-footed  girls.  Some  of  them  carry 
skins  of  wine  on  their  heads.  All  of  them  are  poor. 
They  also  are  gloriously  free.  As  they  pass  the 
palace,  they  look  up  enviously,  and  I,  from  the  inside, 
look  out  enviously.  I  know  how  Richard  of  the  Lion 
Heart  felt  when  he  was  a  prisoner  in  France,  only 
I  have  not  the  comfort  of  a  Lion  Heart,  and  it  is 
not  written  in  the  book  of  things  that  you  shall  pass 
outside  and  hear  my  harp  —  and  rescue  me.  .  .  . 
One  little  taste  of  liberty  I  give  myself.  It  caused  a 
terrible  battle  at  first,  but  I  was  stubborn  and  told 
them  that  if  I  was  going  to  be  Queen  I  was  going  to 
do  just  what  I  wanted,  and  that  if  they  didn't  like  it, 
they  could  get  some  other  girl  to  be  Queen,  so  of 
course  they  let  me.  .  .  .  There  is  an  old  half- 
forgotten  roadway  walled  in  on  both  sides  that  runs 
through  the  town  from  this  horrible  palace  to  the 
woods  upon  the  mountain.  There  is  some  sort  of 
foolish  legend  that  in  the  old  days  the  Kings  used  to 
go  by. this  protected  road  to  a  high  point  called  Look- 


96  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

out  Rock,  and  stand  there  where  they  could  see  pretty 
much  all  of  this  miserable  little  Kingdom  and  a  great 
deal  of  the  Mediterranean  besides.  No  one  uses  it 
now  except  me ;  but  I  do  as  often  as  I  can  steal  away. 
I  dress  in  old  clothes  and  take  the  little  Inca  god 
with  me  and  no  one  knows  us.  We  slip  off  among 
the  bowlders  and  pine  trees  where  the  view  is  wonder- 
ful, and  as  his  godship  presides  on  a  moss-covered 
rock  and  I  sit  on  the  carpet  of  pine  needles,  he  gives 
me  advice.  Somewhere  in  these  woods  crowds  of 
children  live.  They  are  very  shy,  and  for  a  long  time 
looked  at  me  wonderingly  from  big  liquid  eyes,  but 
now  I  have  made  friends  with  them  and  they  come  and 
sit  around  me  in  a  circle  and  make  me  tell  them  fairy 
stories.  .  .  . 

"  Once,  dear,  I  was  strong  enough  to  say  '  no  '  to 
you.  Twice  I  could  not  be." 

The  reader  paused  and  scowled  at  the  wall  with  set 
jaws. 

"  But  when  you  read  this,  almost  three  thousand  miles 
away,  there  will  be  only  a  few  days  between  me  and  (it 
is  hard  to  say  it)  the  marriage  and  the  coronation.  He 
is  to  be  crowned  on  the  same  day  that  we  are  married. 
Then  I  suppose  I  can't  even  write  what  is  in  my  heart." 

Benton  rose  and  paced  the  narrow  confines  of  the 
cabin.  Suddenly  he  halted.  "  Even  under  sealed 
orders,"  he  mused  slowly,  "  one  may  dispose  of  three 


THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS  97 

thousand  miles.  They,  at  least,  are  behind."  A 
countenance  somewhat  drawn  schooled  its  features  into 
normal  expressionlessness,  as  a  few  moments  afterward 
he  rose  to  open  the  door  in  response  to  a  rapping  out- 
side. 

As  the  door  swung  in  a  smile  came  to  Benton's  face: 
the  first  it  had  worn  since  that  night  when  he  had  taken 
leave  of  Hope. 

"  You,  Blanco ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  hombre, 
the  anchor  is  scarce  down.  You  are  prompt !  " 

The  physically  superb  man  who  stood  at  the  thresh- 
old smiled.  The  gleam  of  perfect  teeth  accentuated 
the  swarthy  olive  of  his  face  and  the  crisp  jet  of  his 
hair.  His  brown  eyes  twinkled  good-humoredly.  Jaw, 
neck  and  broad  shoulders  declared  strength,  while  the 
slenderness  of  waist  and  thigh  hinted  of  grace  —  a 
hint  that  every  movement  vindicated.  It  was  the  grace 
of  the  bull-fighter,  to  whom  awkwardness  would  mean 
death. 

"  I  had  your  letter.  It  was  correctly  directed  — 
Manuel  Blanco,  Calle  Isaac  Peral"  The  Spaniard 
smiled  delightedly.  "  When  one  is  once  more  to  see  an 
old  friend,  one  does  not  delay.  How  am  I?  Ah,  it 
is  good  of  the  Senor  to  ask.  I  do  well.  I  have  retired 
from  the  Plaza  de  Toros.  I  busy  myself  with  guiding 
parties  of  touristos  here  and  abroad  —  and  in  the  col- 
lection and  sale  of  antiques.  But  this  time,  what  is 


98  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

your  enterprise  or  pleasure,  Senor?  What  do  you  in 
Spain?" 

"  My  business  in  Spain,"  replied  Benton  slowly,  "  is 
to  get  out  of  Spain.  After  that  I  don't  know.  Will 
you  go  and  take  chances  of  anything  that  might  befall? 
I  sent  for  you  to  ask  you  whether  you  have  leisure  to 
accompany  me  on  an  enterprise  which  may  involve  dan- 
ger. It's  only  fair  to  warn  you." 

Blanco  laughed.  "  Who  reads  manana?  "  he  de- 
manded, seating  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  and 
busying  his  fingers  with  the  deft  rolling  of  a  cigarette. 
"  The  toreador  does  not  question  the  Prophets.  I  am  at 
your  disposition.  But  the  streets  of  Cadiz  await  us. 
Let  us  talk  of  it  all  over  the  table  d'hote:' 

An  hour  later  found  the  two  in  the  Calle  Duke  de 
Tetuan,  blazing  with  lights  like  a  jeweler's  show-case. 

The  narrow  fissure  between  its  walls  was  aflow  with 
the  evening  current  of  promenaders,  crowding  its  scant 
breadth,  and  sending  up  a  medley  of  laughter  and 
musical  sibilants.  Grandees  strolled  stiffly  erect 
with  long  capes  thrown  back  across  their  left  shoul- 
ders to  show  the  brave  color  of  velvet  linings.  Young 
dandies  of  army  and  navy,  conscious  of  their  multi- 
colored uniforms,  sifted  along  through  the  press, 
toying  with  rigidly-waxed  mustaches  and  regarding  the 
warm  beauty  of  their  countrywomen  through  keen,  ap- 
preciative eyes,  not  untinged  with  sensuousness.  Here 


THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS  99 

and  there  a  common  hombre  in  short  jacket,  wide,  low- 
crowned  sombrero  and  red  sash,  zig-zagged  through  the 
pleasure-seekers  to  cut  into  a  darker  side  street  whence 
drifted  pungent  whiffs  of  garlic,  black  olives  and  pep- 
pers from  the  stalls  of  the  street  salad-venders.  Oc- 
casionally a  Moor  in  fez  and  wide-bagging  trousers, 
passed  silently  through  the  volatile  chatter,  looking 
on  with  jet  eyes  and  lips  drawn  down  in  an  impervious 
dignity. 

They  found  a  table  in  one  of  the  more  prominent 
cafes  from  which  they  could  view  through  the  plate- 
glass  front  the  parade  in  the  street,  as  well  as  the  groups 
of  coffee-sippers  within. 

"  Yonder,"  prompted  Blanco,  indicating  with  his 
eyes  a  near-by  group,  "  he  with  the  green-lined  cape, 
is  the  Duke  de  Tavira,  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Spain 
—  it  is  on  his  estate  that  they  breed  the  bulls  for  the 
rings  of  Cadiz  and  Seville.  Yonder,  quarreling  over 
politics,  are  newspaper  men  and  Republicans.  Yonder, 
artists."  He  catalogued  and  assorted  for  the  American 
the  personalities  about  the  place,  presuming  the  curios- 
ity which,  should  be  the  tourist's  attribute-in-chief. 

"  And  at  the  large  table  —  yonder  under  the  potted 
palms,  and  half-screened  by  the  plants  —  who  are 
they?"  questioned  Benton  perfunctorily.  "They  ap- 
pear singularly  engrossed  in  their  talk." 

"  Assume  to  look  the  other  way,  Senor,  so  they  will 


100  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

not  suspect  that  we  speak  of  them,"  cautioned  the 
Andalusian.  "  I  dare  say  that  if  one  could  overhear 
what  they  say,  he  could  sell  his  news  at  his  own  price. 
Who  knows  but  they  may  plan  new  colors  for  the  map 
of  Southern  Europe?  " 

Benton's  gaze  wandered  over  to  the  table  in  ques- 
tion, then  came  uninquisitively  back  to  Blanco's  im- 
passive face.  It  took  more  than  European  politics  to 
distract  him. 

"  International  intrigue?  "  he  inquired. 

The  eyes  of  the  other  were  idly  contemplating  the 
street  windows,  and  as  he  talked  he  did  not  turn  them 
toward  the  men  whom  he  described.  Occasionally  he 
looked  at  Benton  and  then  vacantly  back  to  the  street 
parade,  or  the  red  end  of  his  own  cigarette. 

"  There  is  a  small,  and,  in  itself,  an  unimportant 
Kingdom  with  Mediterranean  sea-front,  called  Galavia," 
said  Blanco.  Benton's  start  was  slight,  and  his  fea- 
tures if  they  gave  a  telltale  wince  at  the  word  became 
instantly  casual  again  in  expression.  But  his  interest 
was  no  longer  forced  by  courtesy.  It  hung  from  that 
moment  fixed  on  the  narrative. 

"  Ah,  I  see  the  Senor  knows  of  it,"  interpolated 
Blanco.  "  The  tall  man  with  the  extremely  pale  face 
and  the  singularly  piercing  eye  who  sits  facing  us," 
—  Blanco  paused, — "  is  the  Duke  Louis  Delgado.  He 
is  the  nephew  of  the  late  King  of  Galavia,  and  if  — ' 


THE  TOREADOR  APPEARS  101 

the  Spaniard  gave  an  expressive  shrug,  and  watched 
the  smoke  ring  he  had  blown  widen  as  it  floated  up 
toward  the  ceiling  — "  if  by  any  chance,  or  mischance, 
Prince  Karyl,  who  is  to  be  crowned  at  Puntal  three  days 
hence,  should  be  called  to  his  reward  in  heaven,  the 
gentleman  who  sits  there  would  be  crowned  King  of 
Galavia  in  his  stead." 


CHAPTER  X 

OF    CERTAIN    TRANSPIRINGS    AT    A    CAFE    TABLE 

"OENTON'S  eyes  seemed  hypnotically  drawn  to  the 
•*-*  table  pointed  out,  but  he  kept  them  tensely  riveted 
on  his  coffee  cup. 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  impatiently  prompted. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Blanco  absently,  "  no  one 
could  regret  more  profoundly  than  the  Grand  Duke 
any  accident  or  fatality  which  might  befall  his  royal 
kinsman,  yet  even  the  holy  saints  cannot  prevent  evil 
chances ! "  He  paused  to  sip  his  coffee.  "  At  the 
right  of  '  Louis,  the  Dreamer,'  as  he  is  called,  sits  the 
Count  Borttorff,  who  is  not  greatly  in  favor  with 
Prince  Karyl.  He,  too,  is  a  Galavian  of  noble  birth, 
but  Paris  knows  him  better  than  Puntal.  He  on  the 
left,  the  man  with  the  puffed  eyes  and  the  dissipated 
mouth  — you  will  notice  also  a  scar  over  the  left 
temple — "  Blanco  was  regarding  his  cigarette  tip  as 
he  flecked  an  ash  to  the  floor  — "  is  Monsieur  Jusseret 
supposed  to  be  high  in  the  affairs  of  the  French  Cabi- 
net Noir." 

"  There  is  one  more  —  and  a  vacant  chair,"  sug- 
gested Benton. 

102 


TRANSPIRINGS  AT  A  CAFE  TABLE      103 

The  toreador  nodded.  "  True,  I  had  not  forgotten 
the  other.  Tall,  black-haired,  not  unlike  yourself  in 
appearance,  Senor,  save  for  a  heavier  jaw  and  the  mus- 
tache which  points  upward.  He  is  an  Englishman  by 
birth,  a  native  of  the  world  by  adoption.  Once  he 
bore  a  British  army  commission.  Now  he  is  seen  in 
distinguished  society  " —  Blanco  laughed  — "  when  dis- 
tinguished society  wants  something  done  which  clean 
men  will  not  do.  His  name,  just  now,  is  Martin.  In 
many  quarters  he  is  better  known  as  the  English  Jackal. 
Where  one  sees  him  one  may  scent  conspiracy." 

In  all  the  life  and  color  compassed  between  the 
four  walls  of  Moorish  tiles  and  arches,  Benton  felt  the 
magnet  of  the  group  irresistibly  drawing  his  eyes  to 
itself. 

"And  this  gathering  about  a  table  for  a  cup  of 
coffee,  in  Cadiz  —  what  of  it?"  argued  Benton.  He 
tried  to  speak  as  if  his  curiosity  were  dilute  and  his 
thoughts  west  of  the  Atlantic.  "Are  they  not  all 
known  here  ?  " 

Again  Blanco  gave  the  expressive  Spanish  shrug. 

"  Few  people  here  know  any  of  them.  I  only  said, 
Senor,  that  if  any  chance  should  cause  Galavia  to 
mourn  her  new  King  that  same  chance  would  elevate 
the  tall,  pale  gentleman  from  a  cafe  table  to  a  throne. 
I  did  not  say  that  the  chance  would  occur." 

"And   yet?"    urged    Benton,    his    eyes    narrowing, 


104  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  your  words  seem  to  hint  more  than  they  express. 
What  is  it,  Manuel?" 

The  Spaniard  took  a  handful  of  matches  from  a 
porcelain  receptacle  on  the  table.  He  laid  one  down. 

"  Let  that  match,"  he  smilingly  suggested,  "  stand 
for  the  circumstance  of  the  Grand  Duke  leaving  Paris 
for  Cadiz  which  is  —  well,  nearer  to  Puntal  —  and  less 
observant  than  Paris."  He  laid  another  on  the  marble 
table-top  with  its  sulphur  head  close  to  the  first,  so 
that  the  two  radiated  from  a  common  center  like  spokes 
from  a  hub.  "  Regard  that  as  a  coincidence  of  the 
arrival  of  the  Count  Borttorff  from  the  other  direc- 
tion, but  at  the  same  time,  and  at  the  precise  season 
of  the  coronation  and  marriage  of  the  King."  He 
looked  at  the  two  matches,  then  successively  laid  down 
others,  all  with  the  heads  at  the  common  center. 
"  That,"  he  said,  "  is  the  joining  of  the  group  by  the 
distinguished  Frenchman  —  that  the  presence  of  the 
English  Jackal  —  that  is  the  chance  that  runs  against 
any  King  or  Queen  of  meeting  death.  That — "  he 
struck  another  match  and  held  it  a  moment  burning  in 
his  fingers  " —  regard  that,  Senor,  as  the  flaring  up 
of  ambitions  that  are  thwarted  by  a  life  or  two." 

He  touched  the  burning  match  to  the  grouped  tips  of 
sulphur  and  his  teeth  gleamed  white  as  he  contem- 
plated the  little  spurt  of  hissing  flame.  Then  he 
dropped  his  flattened  hand  upon  the  tiny  eruption  and 


HIS   TEETH    GLEAMED    WHITE   AS    HE    CONTEMPLATED   THE 
LITTLE    SPURT   OF    HISSING    FLAME. 


TRANSPIRINGS  AT  A  CAFE  TABLE     105 

extinguished  it,  as  his  sudden  grin  died  away  to  a  bored 
smile. 

"  There,  it  is  over,"  he  yawned,  "  and  of  course  it 
may  not  happen.  Quien  sdbe?  '* 

"  And  if  they  should  flare  up  —  '  Benton  spoke 
slowly,  carefully,  "  others  might  suffer  than  the  King?  " 

"  How  should  one  say?  The  King  alone  would  suf- 
fice, but  Kings  are  rarely  found  in  solitude,"  reasoned 
the  Andalusian.  "  For  a  brief  moment  Europe  looks 
with  eyes  of  interest  on  the  feasting  little  capital.  The 
King  will  not  be  alone.  No,  it  must  be  —  so  one  would 
surmise  —  at  the  coronation." 

"  Good  God !  "  Benton  gaspingly  breathed  the  ex- 
clamation. "  But,  man,  think  of  it  —  the  women  — 
the  children  —  the  utterly  innocent  people  —  the 
Queen ! " 

The  Spaniard  leaned  back,  balancing  his  chair  on 
two  legs,  his  hands  spread  on  the  table.  "  Si,  Senor,  it 
is  regrettable.  Yet  nothing  on  earth  appears  so  easy 
to  supply  as  Kings  —  except  Queens.  And  after  all, 
what  is  it  to  us  —  an  American  millionaire  —  a  Cadiz 
toreador?  " 

For  a  moment  Benton  was  silent.  When  he  spoke 
it  was  in  quick,  clear-clipped  interrogation. 

"  You  know  Puntal  and  Galavia?  " 

"  As  I  know  Spain." 

"  Manuel,    suppose    the  quaking    of    a    throne    does 


106  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

interest  me,  you  will  go  there  with  me  —  even  though 
I  may  lead  you  where  its  fall  may  crush  us  both?  " 

The  Spaniard  grinned  with  a  dazzling  show  of  white 
teeth.  His  shoulders  rose  and  fell  in  a  shrug.  "As 
well  a  tumbling  castle  wall  as  a  charging  bull." 

"  Good.  The  first  thing  is  to  learn  all  we  can  of 
Louis  and  his  party." 

"  There  is,"  observed  Blanco  calmly,  "  a  table  on 
this  side  also  shielded  by  plants.  From  its  angle  we 
can  observe, —  and  be  ourselves  protected  from  their 
view.  However,  we  will  first  go  for  a  stroll  in  the  calle 
and  return.  The  change  of  position  will  then  be  less 
noticeable.  Also,  the  Senor's  forehead  is  beaded  with 
moisture.  The  air  of  the  street  will  be  grateful." 

As  Benton  rose  he  noticed  that  the  Grand  Duke  was 
leaning  confidentially  toward  the  member  of  the  French 
Cabinet  Noir. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  two  men  were  ensconced  in 
their  more  sheltered  coign,  with  wine  glasses  before 
them,  and  all  the  seeming  of  idle  hours  to  kill. 

"Is  Louis  ostensibly  a  friend  of  the  throne?"  de- 
manded the  American. 

"  Professedly,  he  is,  Senor.  He  will  write  his  felici- 
tations when  the  marriage  and  the  crowning  occur  — 
he  will  even  send  suitable  gifts,  but  he  will  remain  at 
his  cafe  here  with  his  absinthe,  or  in  Paris  near  the 


TRANSPIRINGS  AT  A  CAFE  TABLE     107 

fair  Comptessa  Astaride,  whom  he  adores,  unless,  of 
course,  he  goes  to  touch  the  match." 

"Does  he  never  return  to  Puntal?" 

"  Once  in  five  years  he  has  been  there.  Then  he  went 
quietly  to  his  hunting  lodge  which  is  ten  miles,  as  the 
crow  flies  from  the  capital,  yet  barred  off  by  the  moun- 
tain ridge.  It  is  two  days'  journey  by  sea  from  Puntal, 
and  save  by  the  sea  one  comes  only  through  the  moun- 
tain pass,  which  is  always  guarded.  Yet  on  that  oc- 
casion heliographs  reported  his  movements ;  the  King's 
escort  was  doubled  and  the  King  went  little  abroad." 

"Who  stands  at  Louis'  back?     Revolutionists?" 

"  Dios!  No,  Senor.  The  Galavians  are  cattle. 
Karyl  or  Louis,  it  is  one  to  them.  Galavia  is  a  key. 
The  key  cares  not  at  what  porter's  belt  it  jingles. 
Europe  cares  who  opens  and  closes  the  lock.  Com- 
prende?  Spain  cares,  France  cares,  Italy  cares,  even 
the  Northern  nations  care.  The  movement  of  pawns 
affects  castles  and  kings." 

Manuel  suddenly  halted  in  his  flow  of  talk.  "  Blessed 
Saints !  "  he  breathed  softly.  "  When  he  comes  nearer 
you  will  see  him  —  the  palms  obscure  him  now.  "  It  is 
Colonel  Von  Ritz.  He  has  just  entered.  He  stands 
near  Karyl  and  the  throne.  He  is  a  great  man  wasted 
in  a  toy  kingdom.  All  Europe  envies  the  services 
which  Von  Ritz  squanders  on  Galavia." 


108  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Benton  looked  up  with  a  rush  of  memories,  and  was 
glad  that  the  Galavian  could  not  see  him. 

Like  all  the  men  concerned,  Von  Ritz  was  incon- 
spicuously a  civilian  in  dress,  but  as  he  came  down  the 
center  of  the  room  he  was,  as  always,  the  command- 
ing figure,  challenging  attention.  His  steady  eyes 
swept  the  place  with  dispassionate  scrutiny.  His 
straight  mouth-line  betrayed  no  expression.  He  came 
slowly,  idly,  as  though  looking  for  someone.  When 
still  some  distance  from  the  table  where  sat  the  Duke 
Louis,  he  halted  and  their  eyes  met.  Those  of  the 
Duke,  as  he  inclined  his  head  slightly,  stiffly,  wore  a 
glint  of  veiled  hostility.  Those  of  Von  Ritz,  as  he  re- 
turned the  salute,  no  whit  more  cordially,  were  blank, 
except  that  for  the  moment,  as  he  stood  regarding  the 
party,  his  non-committal  pupils  seemed  to  bore  into 
each  face  about  the  table  and  to  catalogue  them  all  in 
an  insolent  inventory. 

Each  man  in  the  group  uneasily  shifted  his  eyes. 
Then  Karyl's  officer  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the 
place.  Louis  watched  him,  scowling,  and  as  the  Col- 
onel passed  into  the  street  turned  suddenly  and  spoke 
in  a  vehement  whisper.  Jusseret's  sardonic  lips  twisted 
into  a  wry  smile  as  though  in  recognition  of  an  ad- 
versary's clever  check. 

The  cafe  was  now  filled.     Few  tables  remained  un- 


TRANSPIRINGS  AT  A  CAFE  TABLE     109 

occupied,  and  of  these,  several  were  near  that  of  the 
Ducal  party. 

Blanco  rose.  "  Wait  for  me,  Senor,"  he  whispered, 
then  went  to  the  front  of  the  cafe  where  Benton  lost 
him  in  a  crowd  at  the  door.  A  moment  later  he  came 
lurching  back.  His  lower  lip  was  stupidly  pendent,  his 
eyes  heavy  and  dull,  and  as  he  floundered  about  he 
dropped  with  the  aimless  air  of  one  heavily  intoxicated 
into  a  chair  by  a  vacant  table  not  more  than  ten  feet 
distant  from  that  of  Louis,  the  Dreamer. 

There  he  remained  huddled  in  apparent  torpor  and 
for  some  moments  unobserved,  until  the  Duke  signaled 
to  a  passing  waiter  and  indicated  the  toreador  with 
a  glance.  The  waiter  came  over  to  Blanco.  "  The 
Senor  will  find  another  table,"  he  said  with  the  in- 
gratiating courtesy  of  one  paying  a  compliment.  "  It 
is  regrettable,  but  this  one  is  reserved."  Blanco  ap- 
peared too  stupid  to  understand,  and  when  finally  he  did 
grasp  the  meaning  he  rose  with  profuse  and  clumsy 
apologies  and  staggered  vacantly  about  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  the  conspiring  coterie.  Finally,  after 
receiving  further  attention  and  guidance  from  the 
waiter,  he  returned  to  Benton,  and  dropping  into  his 
chair  leaned  over,  his  white  teeth  flashing  a  satisfied 
smile.  "  The  matches  may  not  flare,  Senor,"  he  said, 
"  but  it  would  appear  it  was  planned.  Now  Martin 


110  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

and  Borttorff  cannot  go  to  Puntal.  Since  the  brief 
visit  of  Von  Ritz  they  are  branded  men.  The  others 
are  already  known  to  Karyl's  government." 

Benton  sat  with  his  brows  knitted  intently  listening. 

"  Now,"  went  on  Blanco,  "  there  is  one  thing  more. 
They  await  the  man  for  whom  they  hold  the  empty 
chair." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  then  the  Spaniard  uttered 
a  low  exclamation  of  satisfaction.  Benton  glanced  up 
to  see  a  young  man  of  frank  face,  blond  mustache  and 
Paris  clothes  drop  into  the  vacant  place  with  evident 
apologies  for  his  tardiness. 

"  Ah,"  breathed  Blanco  again,  "  I  feared  it  would  be 
someone  I  did  not  know.  He  is  the  Tenlente  Lapas,  of 
Karyl's  Palace  guard.  The  pobrecito!  I  wonder  what 
post  he  hopes  to  adorn  at  the  Court  of  the  Pretender." 

For  a  moment  the  Spaniard  looked  on  with  an  ex- 
pression of  melancholy  reflection.  "  That  boy,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  has  the  trust  and  friendship  of  the  King. 
Before  him  lies  every  prospect  of  advancement,  yet  he 
has  been  beguiled  by  the  Countess  Astaride,  and  throws 
himself  into  a  plot  against  Karyl.  It  is  pitiable  when 
one  is  perfidious  so  young  —  and  with  such  small 
cause." 

"Who  is  the  Countess  Astaride?"  inquired  the 
American. 

"  One   of  the   most  beautiful  women   in   Europe,   to 


TRANSPIRINGS  AT  A  CAFE  TABLE     111 

whom  these  children  are  playthings.  For  her  there  is 
only  Louis  Delgado.  It  is  her  firing  of  his  dreams 
which  makes  him  aspire  to  a  throne.  It  is  she  who 
has  the  determination.  He  can  see  visions  of  power 
only  in  the  colors  of  his  absinthe  glass.  She  uses  men 
to  her  ends.  Lapas  is  the  latest  —  unless — "  Blanco 
paused — "  unless  he  is  playing  two  parts,  and  really 
serves  Karyl.  Come,  Senor,  there  is  nothing  further 
to  interest  us  here." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    PASSING    PRINCESS    AND     THE    MISTAKEN     COUNTESS 

WITH  the  sapphire  bay  of  Puntal  at  his  back,  his 
knees  clasped  between  interlacing  fingers,  Benton 
sat  on  the  stone  sea-wall  and  affected  to  whistle  up 
a  lightness  of  heart.  Near  at  hand  sprawled  a  pic- 
turesque city,  its  houses  tinted  in  pea-greens,  pinks  and 
soft  blues,  or  as  white  and  decorative  as  though  fash- 
ioned in  icing  on  a  cake. 

Clinging  steeply  to  higher  levels  and  leaning  on 
buttressing  walls,  lay  outspread  vineyards  and  cane 
fields  and  gardens.  Splotching  the  whole  with  imperial 
and  gorgeous  purple,  hung  masses  of  bougonvillea  be- 
tween trellis  and  masonry.  At  a  more  lofty  line,  where 
the  sub-tropical  profusion  halted  in  the  warning  breath 
of  a  keener  atmosphere,  came  the  scrub  growth  and 
beyond  that,  in  succeeding  altitudes,  the  pine  belt,  the 
snow  line  and  the  film  of  trailing  cloud  on  the  white 
peaks. 

Out  of  the  center  of  the  color-splashed  town  rose 
the  square  tower  of  the  ancient  cathedral,  white  in  a 
coat  of  plaster  for  two-thirds  of  its  height,  but  gray 
at  its  top  in  the  nakedness  of  mossy  stone. 
112 


PRINCESS  AND  COUNTESS  113 

To  its  dilapidated  clock  Benton's  eyes  traveled  re- 
peatedly and  anxiously  while  he  waited. 

From  the  clock  they  wandered  in  turn  to  the  road 
circling  the  bay,  and  the  cliff  at  his  left,  where  the 
jail-like  walls  of  the  King's  Palace  rose  sheer  from 
the  rock,  fifty  feet  above  him. 

From  the  direction  of  the  Cathedral  drifted  frag- 
ments of  band  music,  and  the  bugle  calls  of  marching 
platoons.  Everywhere  festivity  reigned,  working  great 
profits  to  the  keepers  of  the  wine-shops. 

Manuel  Blanco  turned  the  corner  and  Benton  slipped 
quickly  down  from  his  perch  on  the  wall  and  fell 
into  step  as  the  other  passed. 

"It  is  difficult  to  learn  anything,  Senor"  The 
Spaniard  spoke  low  as  he  led  the  way  outward  from 
the  city. 

"  Puntal  is  usually  a  quiet  place  and  the  festivities 
have  made  it  like  a  child  at  a  fiesta.  One  hears  only 
'  Long  live  the  King  —  the  Queen ! '  There  are  to  be 
illuminations  to-night,  and  music,  and  the  limit  will  be 
taken  off  the  roulette  wheels  at  the  Strangers'  Club. 
Bah !  One  could  have  read  it  in  the  papers  without  leav- 
ing Cadiz." 

"Then  you  have  learned  nothing?" 

"  One  thing,  yes.  An  old  friend  of  mine  has  come 
for  the  festivities  from  the  Duke's  estate.  He  says 


114.  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  pass  is  picketed  and  a  guard  is  posted  at  the  Look- 
out Rock." 

"  The  Look-out  Rock?  "  Benton  repeated  the  words 
with  an  inflection  of  inquiry. 

"  Yes  —  look  above  you  at  the  hill  whose  summit  is 
less  high  than  the  ridge  peaks  —  there  below  the  snow." 
Blanco  suddenly  raised  his  voice  from  confidential  un- 
dertone to  the  sing-song  of  the  professional  guide. 
"  Yonder,"  he  said,  scarcely  changing  the  direction  of 
his  pointed  finger,  "  is  the  unfinished  sanatorium  for 
consumptives  which  the  Germans  undertook  and  left 
unfinished."  Two  soldiers  were  sauntering  by,  smart 
in  newly  issued  uniforms  of  tall  red  caps,  dark  tunics, 
sky-blue  breeches,  and  polished  boots.  "  That  point," 
went  on  Blanco,  dropping  his  voice  again,  as  they 
passed  out  of  earshot,  "  is  three  thousand,  five  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea.  From  the  rock  by  the  pines  —  if 
you  had  a  strong  glass,  you  could  see  the  Galavian 
flag  which  flies  there  —  the  eye  sweeps  the  sea  for  many 
empty  leagues.  One's  gaze  can  also  follow  the  gorge 
where  runs  the  pass  through  the  mountains.  Also,  to 
the  other  side,  one  has  an  eagle's  glimpse  of  the  Grand 
Duke's  hunting  lodge.  There  is  an  observatory  just 
back  of  the  rock  and  flag.  The  speck  of  light  which 
you  can  see,  like  a  splinter  of  crystal,  is  its  dome,  but 
only  military  astronomers  now  look  through  its  tele- 
scope. There  one  can  read  the  tale  of  open  shutters 


PRINCESS  AND  COUNTESS  115 

or  barred  windows  in  the  house  of  Louis,  the  Dreamer. 
You  understand?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Now,  do  you  see  the  thread  of  broken  masonry 
zig-zagging  upward  from  the  Palace?  That  is  a  walled 
drive  which  runs  part  of  the  way  up  to  the  rock. 
In  other  days  the  Kings  of  Galavia  went  thus  from 
their  castle  to  the  point  whence  they  could  see  the 
peninsula  spread  out  below  like  a  map  on  the  page  of 
a  school-book." 

"Yes?     What  else?" 

"  This.  The  lodge  of  the  Duke  as  seen  by  the  tele- 
scope sleeps  shuttered  —  an  expanse  of  blank  walls. 
Yet  the  Duke  is  there ! " 

"  Louis  —  in  Galavia?  " 

"  Wait."  Blanco  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  arm 
and  smiled. 

"  My  friend  is  superstitious  —  and  ignorant.  He 
tells  how  the  Duke  has  a  ship's  mast  with  wires  on  a 
tower  fronting  the  far  side.  He  says  Louis  talks  with 
the  open  sea." 

"  A  Marconi  mast?  " 

Manuel  nodded. 

Benton's  eyes  narrowed  under  drawn  brows.  When 
he  spoke  his  voice  was  tense. 

"  In  God's  name,  Manuel,"  he  whispered,  "  what  is 
the  answer?" 


116  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  Spaniard  met  the  gaze  gravely.  "  I  fancy, 
Senor,"  he  said  slowly,  "  the  matches  will  burn." 

"When?     Where?" 

"  Quien  sale?  "  Blanco  paused  to  light  a  cigarette. 
Two  priests,  their  black  robes  relieved  by  crimson  sashes 
and  stockings,  approached,  and  until  they  were  at  a 
safe  distance  he  talked  on  once  more  at  random  with 
the  sing-song  patter  of  the  guide.  "  That  dungeon- 
like  building  is  the  old  Fortress  do  Freres.  It  has 
clung  to  that  gut  of  rock  out  there  in  the  bay  since 
the  days  when  the  Moors  held  the  Mediterranean.  It 
is  said  that  the  new  King  will  convert  it  from  a  fortress 
into  a  prison.  It  is  now  employed  as  an  arsenal." 

Slowly  the  two  men  moved  back  to  the  busier  part 
of  the  city.  They  walked  in  silence  until  they  were 
swallowed  in  the  crowds  drifting  near  the  Central  Ave- 
nue. Finally  Blanco  leaned  forward,  moved  by  the 
anxious  face  of  his  companion.  "  Manana,  Senor,"  he 
suggested  reassuringly.  "  Perhaps  we  may  learn  to- 
morrow." 

"  And  to-morrow  may  be  too  late,"  replied  Benton. 

"  Hardly,  Senor.  The  marriage  and  coronation  are 
the  day  following.  It  should  be  one  of  those  occa- 
sions." Benton  only  shuddered. 

They  swung  into  the  Ruo  Centrale,  between  lining 
sycamores,  olive  trees  and  acacias,  to  be  engulfed  in  a 


PRINCESS  AND  COUNTESS  117 

jostling  press  of  feast-day  humanity.  Suddenly  Ben- 
ton  felt  his  coat-sleeve  tugged. 

"  Let  us  stop,"  Manuel  shouted  into  his  ear  above 
the  roar  of  the  carnival  clamor.  "  The  Royal  carriage 
comes." 

Between  a  garden  and  the  pavement  ran  a  stone 
coping,  topped  by  a  tall  iron  grill,  and  laden  with 
screening  vines.  The  two  men  mounted  this  masonry 
and  clung  to  the  iron  bars,  as  the  crowd  was  driven 
back  from  the  street  by  the  outriders.  Before  Ben- 
ton's  eyes  the  whole  mass  of  humanity  swam  in  a  blur 
of  confusion  and  vertigo.  The  passing  files  of  blue 
and  red  soldiery  seemed  wavering  figures  mounted  on 
reeling  horses.  The  King's  carriage  swung  into  view 
and  a  crescendo  of  cheering  went  up  from  the  crowd. 

Benton  saw  blurred  circles  of  color  whirling  dizzily 
about  a  steady  center,  and  the  center  was  the  slender 
woman  at  Karyl's  side,  who  was  the  day  after  to- 
morrow to  become  his  Queen.  He  saw  the  fixed  smile 
with  which  she  tried  to  acknowledge  the  salutations  as 
the  crowd  eddied  about  her  carriage.  Her  wide,  stricken 
eyes  were  shimmery  with  imprisoned  tears.  To  drive 
through  the  streets  of  Puntal  with  that  half -stunned 
misery  written  clear  in  lips  and  eyes,  she  must,  he 
knew,  have  reached  the  outmost  border  of  endurance. 
Karyl  bent  solicitously  forward  and  spoke,  and  she 


118  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

nodded  as  if  answering  in  a  dream,  smiling  wanly. 
It  was  all  as  some  young  Queen  might  have  gone  to 
the  guillotine  rather  than  to  her  coronation.  As  she 
looked  bewilderedly  from  side  to  side  her  glance  fell 
upon  the  clustering  flowers  of  the  vine.  Benton  gripped 
the  iron  bars  and  groaned,  and  then  her  eyes  met  his. 
For  a  moment  her  pupils  dilated  and  one  gloved  hand 
convulsively  tightened  on  the  paneling  of  the  carriage 
door.  The  man  dropped  into  the  crowd  and  was  swal- 
-  lowed  up,  and  he  knew  by  her  familiar  gesture  of  brush- 
ing something  away  from  her  temples,  that  she  believed 
she  had  seen  an  image  projected  from  a  troubled  brain. 
"  Come,"  he  said  brokenly  to  his  companion,  "  for 
God's  sake  get  me  out  of  this  crowd." 

The  Strangers'  Club  of  Puntal  sits  high  on  a  solid 
wall  of  rock  and  overlooks  the  sea.  Its  beauty  is  too 
full  of  wizardry  to  seem  real,  and  what  nature  had  done 
in  view  and  sub-tropical  luxuriance  the  syndicate  which 
operates  the  ball  rooms,  tea  gardens,  and  roulette  wheels 
has  striven  to  abet.  To-night  a  moon  two-thirds  full 
immersed  the  grounds  in  a  bath  of  blue  and  silver,  and 
far  off  below  the  cliff  wall  the  Mediterranean  was 
phosphorescent.  In  the  room  where  the  croupiers  spun 
the  wheels,  the  color  scheme  was  profligate. 

Benton  idled  at  one  of  the  tables,  his  eyes  search- 
ing the  crowd  in  the  faint  hope  of  discovering  some 


PRINCESS  AND  COUNTESS  119 

thread  which  he  might  follow  up  to  definite  conclu- 
sion. Beyond  the  wheel,  just  at  the  croupier's  elbow, 
stood  a  woman,  audaciously  yet  charmingly  gowned  in 
red,  with  a  scale-like  shimmer  of  passementerie.  A  red 
rose  in  her  black  hair  threw  into  conspicuous  effect  its 
intense  luster. 

She  might  have  been  the  genius  of  Rouge  et  Noir. 
Her  litheness  had  the  panther's  sinuous  strength.  The 
vivid  contrast  of  olive  cheeks,  carmine  lips  and  dark 
eyes,  gave  stress  to  her  slender  sensuousness. 

Hers  was  the  allurement  of  poppy  and  passion-flower. 
In  her  movements  was  suggestion  of  vital  feminine 
force. 

Perhaps  the  incurious  glance  of  the  American  made 
itself  felt,  for  as  she  threw  down  a  fresh  louis  d'or,  she 
looked  up  and  their  eyes  met.  For  an  instant  her  ex- 
pression was  almost  that  of  one  who  stifles  an  impulse 
to  recognize  another.  Possibly,  thought  Benton,  she 
had  mistaken  him  for  someone  else. 

"  Mon  dteu,"  whispered  a  voice  in  French,  "  the 
Comptessa  d'Astaride  is  charming  this  evening." 

"  Ah,  such  wit !  Such  charm ! "  enthused  another 
voice  at  Benton's  back.  "  She  is  most  perfect  in  those 
gowns  of  unbroken  lines,  with  a  single  rose."  Evi- 
dently the  men  left  the  tables  at  once,  for  Benton  heard 
no  more.  He  also  turned  away  a  moment  later  to  make 
way  for  an  Italian  in  whose  feverish  eyes  burned  the 


120  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

roulette-lust.  He  went  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 
gardens,  where  there  was  deep  shadow,  and  a  seaward 
outlook  over  the  cliff  wall.  There  the  glare  of  electric 
bulbs  and  blazing  doorways  was  softened,  and  the  or- 
chestra's music  was  modulated.  Presently  he  was 
startled  by  a  ripple  of  laughter  at  his  shoulder,  low  and 
rich  in  musical  vibrance. 

"  Ah,  it  is  not  like  this  in  your  gray,  fog-wrapped 
country." 

Benton  wheeled  in  astonishment  to  encounter  the  daz- 
zling smile  of  the  Countess  Astaride.  She  was  stand- 
ing slender  as  a  young  girl,  all  agleam  in  the  half- 
light  as  though  she  wore  an  armor  of  glowing  copper 
and  garnets. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  stammered  the  American,  but 
she  laid  a  hand  lightly  on  his  arm  and  smilingly  shook 
her  head. 

"  I  know,  Monsieur  Martin,  we  have  not  met,  but  you 
were  with  the  Duke  at  Cadiz.  You  have  come  in  his 
interest.  In  his  cause,  I  acknowledge  no  conventions." 
In  her  voice  was  the  fusing  of  condescension  and  regal 
graciousness.  "  It  was  wise,"  she  thoughtfully  added, 
"  to  shave  your  mustache,  but  even  so  Von  Ritz  will 
know  you.  You  cannot  be  too  guarded." 

For  an  instant  Benton  stood  with  his  hands  braced 
on  the  coping  regarding  her  curiously.  Evidently  he 
stood  on  the  verge  of  some  revelation,  but  the  role 


PRINCESS  AND  COUNTESS  121 

in  which  her  palpable  mistake  cast  him  was  one  he  must 
play  all  in  the  dark. 

"  You  can  trust  me,"  she  said  with  an  impassioned 
note  but  without  elevating  her  voice.  "  I  am  the  Coun- 
tess — " 

"  Astaride,"  finished  Benton. 

Then  he  cautiously  added  the  inquiry :  "  Have  you 
heard  the  plans  that  were  discussed  by  the  Duke,  and 
Jusseret  and  Borttorff  ?  " 

"  And  yourself  and  Lieutenant  Lapas,"  she  aug- 
mented. 

"  And  Lapas  and  myself,"  admitted  Benton,  lying 
fluently. 

"  I  know  only  that  Louis  is  to  wait  at  his  lodge 
to  hear  by  wireless  whether  France  and  Italy  will  recog- 
nize his  government,"  she  hastily  recited ;  "  and  that  on 
that  signal  you  and  Lapas  wait  to  strike  the  blow." 

"  Do  you  know  when  ?  "  inquired  the  American,  fen- 
cing warily  in  the  effort  to  lead  her  into  betrayal  of 
more  definite  information. 

"  It  must  be  soon  —  or  never !  But  tell  me,  has 
Louis  come?  Has  he  reached  his  hunting  lodge? 
Does  he  know  that  guards  are  at  the  rock?  Do  you, 
or  Lapas,  wait  to  flash  the  signal  from  the  look-out? 
Ah,  how  my  gaze  shall  be  bent  toward  the  flag-staff." 
Then,  as  her  eyes  wandered  out  to  sea,  her  voice  be- 
came soft  with  dreams.  She  laughed  low  and  shook 


122  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

her  head.  "  Louis,  Louis !  "  she  murmured.  "  When 
you  are  King !  But  tell  me  — "  again  she  was  anxious, 
executive,  imperious  — "  tell  me  everything !  " 

Obviously  he  was  mistaken  for  the  English  Jackal ! 

Benton  countered  anxiously.  "  Yet,  Your  Majesty," 
—  he  bent  low  as  he  anticipated  her  ambition  in  be- 
stowing the  title — "Your  Majesty  asks  so  many  ques- 
tions all  at  once,  and  we  may  be  interrupted." 

Once  more  she  was  in  a  realm  of  air  castles  as  she 
leaned  on  the  stone  coping  and  gazed  off  into  the  moon- 
light. "  It  is  but  the  touching  of  a  button,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  and  allons!  In  the  space  of  an  explosion, 
dynasties  change  places."  Suddenly  she  stood  up. 
"  You  are  right.  We  cannot  talk  here.  I  shall  be 
missed.  Take  this  " —  she  slipped  a  seal  ring  from  her 
finger.  "  Come  to  me  to-morrow  morning.  I  am  at  the 
Hotel  de  France.  I  shall  be  ostensibly  out,  but  show 
the  ring  and  you  will  be  admitted.  When  I  am  Queen, 
you  shall  not  go  undecorated."  She  gave  his  hand  a 
warm  momentary  pressure  and  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BENTON    MUST    DECIDE 

the  next  afternoon  at  the  base  of  the  flag-staff 
above  Look-out  Rock,  Lieutenant  Lapas  nervously 
swept  the  leagues  of  sea  and  land,  spreading  under  him, 
with  strong  glasses.  Though  the  air  was  somewhat 
rarer  and  cooler  here  than  below,  beads  of  sweat  stood 
out  on  his  forehead,  and  the  cigarettes  which  he  in- 
cessantly smoked  followed  each  other  with  a  furious 
haste  which  denoted  mental  unrest. 

At  a  sound  of  foliage  rustled  aside  and  a  displaced 
rock  bumping  down  the  slope,  the  watcher  took  the 
glasses  from  his  eyes  with  a  nervous  start. 

Up  the  hill  from  the  left  climbed  an  unknown  man. 
His  features  were  those  of  a  Spaniard.  As  the  officer's 
eyes  challenged  him  he  halted,  panting,  to  mop  his  brow 
with  the  air  of  one  who  takes  a  breathing  space  after 
violent  exertion.  The  newcomer  smiled  pleasantly  as 
he  leaned  against  a  bowlder  and  genially  volunteered: 
"  It  is  a  long  journey  from  the  shore."  Then  after  a 
moment  he  added  in  a  tone  of  respectful  inquiry: 
"  You  are  Lieutenant  Lapas  ?  " 
123 


124  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  officer  had  regained  his  composure.  He  re- 
garded the  other  with  a  mild  scrutiny  touched  with 
superciliousness  as  he  nodded  acquiescence  and  in  re- 
turn demanded :  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  that  speck  of  white  down  yonder  by  the 
sea?  "  Blanco  drew  close  and  his  outstretched  finger 
pointed  a  line  to  the  Duke's  lodge.  "  I  come  from 
there,"  he  explained  with  concise  directness. 

The  officer  bit  his  lip. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?  "  The  Spaniard  paused  to 
roll  a  cigarette  before  he  answered: 

"  I  come  from  the  Duke,  of  course.  Why  else  should 
I  climb  this  accursed  ladder  of  hills?  " 

"What  Duke?"  The  interrogation  tumbled  too 
eagerly  from  the  soldier's  lips  to  be  consonant  with  his 
wary  assumption  of  innocence.  "  There  are  so  many 
Dukes.  Myself,  I  serve  only  the  King." 

The  Spaniard's  teeth  gleamed,  and  there  was  a 
strangely  disarming  quality  in  the  smile  that  broke 
in  sudden  illumination  over  his  dark  face. 

"  I  have  been  here  only  a  few  days,"  explained 
Blanco.  Then,  lying  with  apt  fluency,  he  continued: 
"  I  have  arrived  from  Cadiz  in  the  service  of  the  Grand 
Duke  Louis  Delgado,  who  will  soon  be  His  Majesty, 
Louis  of  Galavia,  and  I  am  sent  to  you  as  the  bearer 
of  his  message."  He  ignored  the  other's  protestations 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  125 

of  loyalty  to  the  throne  as  completely  as  he  ignored  the 
frightened  face  of  the  man  who  made  them. 

Lapas  had  whitened  to  the  lips  and  now  stood  hesitant. 
"  I  don't  understand,"  he  stammered. 

The  Spaniard's  expression  changed  swiftly  from 
good  humor  to  the  sternness  of  a  taskmaster. 

"  The  Duke  is  impatient,"  he  asserted,  "  of  delays  and 
misunderstandings  on  the  part  of  his  servants.  His 
Grace  believed  that  your  memory  had  been  well  schooled. 
Louis,  the  King,  may  prove  forgetful  of  those  who  are 
forgetful  of  Louis,  the  Duke." 

Lapas  still  stood  silent,  pitiably  unnerved.  If  the 
man  was  Karyl's  spy  an  incautious  reply  might  cost 
him  his  life.  If  he  was  genuinely  a  messenger  from 
the  Pretender  any  hesitation  might  prove  equally  fatal. 

Time  was  important.  Blanco  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  gold  seal  ring  which  until  last  night  had  adorned 
the  finger  of  the  Countess  Astaride.  Upon  its  shield 
was  the  crest  of  the  House  of  Delgado.  At  the  sight 
of  the  familiar  quarterings,  the  officer's  face  became 
contrite,  apologetic,  but  above  all  immeasurably  re- 
lieved. 

"  Caution  is  so  necessary,"  he  explained.  "  One  can- 
not be  too  careful.  It  is  not  for  myself  alone,  but  for 
the  Duke  also  that  I  must  have  a  care." 

Blanco  accepted  the  explanation  with  a  bow,  then  he 


126  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

spoke  energetically  and  rapidly,  pressing  his  advantage 
before  the  other's  weakness  should  lead  him  into  fresh 
vacillation. 

"  The  Duke  feared  that  there  might  be  some  mis- 
understanding as  to  the  signal  and  the  programme. 
He  wished  me  to  make  it  clear  to  you." 

Lapas  nodded  and,  turning,  led  the  way  through  the 
pine  trees  to  a  small  kiosk  that  was  something  between 
a  sentinel  box  and  a  signal  station  built  against  the 
walls  of  the  old  observatory. 

"I  think  I  understand,"  said  Lapas,  "but  I  shall 
be  glad  to  have  you  repeat  the  Duke's  commands  and 
inform  me  if  any  changes  have  been  made." 

"  No,  the  arrangements  stand  unaltered,"  replied  the 
Spaniard.  "  My  directions  were  that  you  should  re- 
peat to  me  the  order  of  your  instructions  and  that  I 
should  judge  for  His  Grace  whether  or  not  your  mem- 
ory is  retentive.  There  must  be  no  hitch." 

"  I  don't  know  you,"  demurred  Lapas. 

"  His  Grace  knows  me  —  and  trusts  me.  That  should 
be  sufficient,"  retorted  Blanco.  "  I  bring  you  creden- 
tials which  you  will  refuse  to  recognize  at  your  own 
risk.  Unless  I  were  in  the  confidence  of  the  Duke,  I 
could  scarcely  be  here  with  a  knowledge  of  your  plans." 

Blanco's  eyes  blazed  in  sudden  and  well  simulated 
wrath.  "  I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  argument.  Choose 
quickly.  Shall  I  return  to  Louis  and  inform  him  that 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  127 

you  refuse  to  trust  those  he  selects  to  bear  his 
orders  ?  " 

For  an  instant  the  Spaniard  stood  contemptuously 
regarding  the  other's  terror,  then  with  a  disgusted 
exclamation  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  started  to  the 
door  of  the  kiosk.  But  Lapas  was  in  a  moment  catch- 
ing at  his  elbow  and  protesting  himself  convinced.  He 
led  Blanco  back  to  a  seat. 

"  Listen."  The  Lieutenant  sat  at  the  crude  table  in 
the  center  of  the  small  room  and  talked  rapidly,  as  one 
rehearsing  a  well-learned  lesson. 

"  The  Fortress  do  Freres  is  stocked  with  explosives. 
Karyl  goes  there  with  Von  Ritz  and  others  of  his  suite 
to  inspect  the  place  with  the  view  of  turning  it  into  a 
prison.  The  Grand  Duke,  waiting  at  his  hunting  lodge, 
is  to  receive  by  wireless  the  message  from  Jusseret  and 
Borttorff,  who  convey  the  verdict  of  Europe,  as  to 
whether  or  not  it  is  decided  to  recognize  his  Govern- 
ment. If  their  message  be  favorable,  he  will  raise  the 
Galavian  flag  on  the  west  tower  of  the  hunting  lodge, 
and  I  shall  relay  the  message  here  with  the  flag  at  Look- 
out Point.  This  flag-pole  will  be  the  signal  to  those 
in  the  city  whose  fingers  are  on  the  key,  and  whose 
key  will  explode  the  powder  in  do  Freres.  If  the  flag 
which  now  flies  from  the  flag-staff  here  is  still  flying 
when  the  King  enters  the  fortress,  the  cap  will  explode. 
If  the  flag-staff  is  empty,  the  King's  visit  will  be  un- 


128  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

eventful.  It  will  require  fifteen  minutes  for  the  King 
to  go  from  the  Palace  to  the  Fortress.  I  must  not  re- 
main here  —  I  must  be  where  I  can  see." 

Lapas  rose  and  consulted  his  watch  with  nervous 
haste.  "You  will  excuse  me?"  he  added.  "I  must 
be  at  my  post.  Are  you  satisfied?  " 

Blanco  also  rose,  bowing  as  he  drew  back  the  heavy 
chair  he  had  occupied.  "  I  am  quite  satisfied,"  he  ap- 
proved. His  hands  were  gripping  the  chairback  and 
when  Lapas  had  taken  two  paces  to  the  front,  and 
Blanco  had  appraised  the  distance  between,  the  chair 
left  the  floor.  With  the  same  lightning  swiftness  of 
motion  that  had  brought  salvos  of  applause  from  the 
bull-rings  of  Cadiz  and  Seville,  he  swung  it  above  his 
head  and  brought  down  its  cumbersome  weight  in  an 
arc. 

Lapas,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  door,  had  no  hint.  A 
picture  of  serene  sky  and  steady  mountains  was  blotted 
from  his  brain.  There  was  blackness  instead  —  and 
unconsciousness. 

A  bleeding  scalp  told  the  toreador  that  the  blow  had 
only  cut  and  stunned. 

Rapidly  he  bound  and  gagged  his  captive.  Drag- 
ging him  back  through  the  narrow  room  he  made  cer- 
tainty doubly  sure  by  tying  him  to  the  base  of  the 
neglected  telescope  in  the  abandoned  observatory. 

A  hundred  yards  below  the  rock,  tucked  out  of  sight 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  129 

of  the  man  at  the  flag-pole,  stretched  a  ledge-like  strip 
of  level  ground,  backed  by  the  thick  tangle  of  growth 
which  masked  the  slope.  Beyond  its  edge  of  roughly 
blocked  and  crevassed  stone,  the  gorge  fell  away  a 
dizzy  thousand  feet.  Out  of  the  pines  struggled  the 
half-overgrown  path  where  once  a  road  had  led  from 
the  castle.  This  way  the  earlier  Lords  of  Galavia  had 
come  to  look  across  the  backbone  of  the  peninsula,  to 
the  east. 

As  Benton  paced  the  ledge  impatiently,  awaiting  the 
outcome  of  Blanco's  reconnoiter,  he  noticed  with  a 
nauseating  sense  of  onrushing  peril  how  the  purpled 
shadows  of  the  mountains  were  lengthening  across  the 
valley  and  beginning  to  creep  up  the  other  side. 

Each  time  his  pacing  brought  him  to  the  edge  of 
the  clearing  he  paused  to  look  down  at  the  sullen  walls 
of  Karyl's  castle. 

A  woman,  flushed  and  breathless  from  the  climb, 
pushed  through  the  scrub  pines  at  the  path's  end  and 
stopped  suddenly  at  the  marge  of  the  clearing.  Her 
slender  girlish  figure,  clad  in  corduroy  skirt  and  blue 
jersey,  was  poised  with  lance-like  straightness,  and  a 
grace  as  free  as  a  boy's.  Her  hands,  cased  in  battered 
gauntlets,  went  suddenly  to  her  breast,  as  though  she 
would  muffle  the  palpitant  heart  beneath  the  jersey. 
She  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  man  and  the 
ultramarine  of  her  eyes  clouded  slowly  into  gray.  The 


130  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

pink  flush  of  exercise  died  instantly  to  pallor  in  her 
cheeks. 

Then  the  lips  overcame  an  impulse  to  quiver  and 
spoke  slowly  in  an  undertone  and  with  marked  effort. 
"  This  is  twice  that  I  have  seen  you,"  she  whispered, 
"  although  you  are  three  thousand  miles  away." 

The  man  wheeled,  not  suddenly,  but  heavily  and 
slowly.  "  I  am  real,"  he  answered  simply. 

Cara  put  out  one  hand  like  a  sleep-walker,  and  came 
forward,  still  incredulous. 

"  Gara,  dearest  one ! "  he  said  impetuously.  "  You 
must  have  known  that  I  would  be  near  you  —  that  I 
would  be  standing  by,  even  though  I  couldn't  help ! " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  have  been  having  these  hal- 
lucinations, you  know,  of  late."  She  explained  as 
though  to  herself.  "  I  guess  it's  —  it's  just  missing 
people  so  that  does  it." 

She  was  close  to  him  now,  close,  too,  to  the  sheer  drop 
of  the  cliff,  walking  forward  with  eyes  wide  and  fixed  on 
his  face.  He  took  a  quick  step  forward  and  swept  her 
to  him,  crushing  her  against  his  breast. 

She  gave  a  glad  exclamation  of  realization,  and  her 
own  arms  closed  impulsively  around  his  neck. 

"  You  are  real !  You  are  real ! "  she  whispered, 
looking  into  his  eyes,  her  gauntleted  hands  holding  his 
face  between  them. 

"  Cara,"   he   begged,   "  listen  to   me.     It's   my   last 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  131 

plea.  You  said  in  the  letter  I  have  in  my  pocket  — 
there  where  your  heart  is  beating  —  that  you  could  not 
refuse  me  if  I  came  again.  Dear,  this  is  *  again.'  The 
I  sis  is  a  speck  out  there  at  sea  awaiting  a  signal.  Will 
you  go  ?  I  have  no  throne  to  offer,  but  — " 

"  Don't,"  she  cried,  holding  a  hand  over  his  lips. 
"For  a  minute  —  just  for  a  little  golden  minute  — 
let  us  forget  thrones."  Then  as  the  furrow  came  back 
between  her  brows :  "  Oh,  boy,  it's  my  destiny  to  be 
always  strong  enough  to  resist  happiness  when  I  might 
have  it  by  being  less  strong,  and  always  too  weak  to 
bear  bravely  what  must  be  borne  —  when  it  can't  be 
helped." 

He  stood  silent. 

After  a  moment  she  went  on.  "  And  I  love  you. 
Ah,  you  know  that  well  enough,  but  up  there  beyond 
your  head  which  I  love,  I  see  the  green  and  white 
and  blue  flag  of  Galavia  which  I  hate,  and  destiny  com- 
mands me  to  be  disloyal  to  you  for  loyalty  to  it.  On 
the  eve  of  life  imprisonment,"  she  went  on,  clinging 
to  him,  "  I  have  stolen  away  to  play  truant  perhaps  for 
the  last  time  —  still  craving  freedom,  longing  for  you ; 
and  now  I  find  freedom,  and  you,  just  to  lose  you 
again  !  I  can't  —  I  can't  —  yes  —  I  can  —  I  will !  " 

Suddenly  he  held  her  off  at  arms'  length  and  looked 
at  her  with  a  strange  wide-eyed  expression  of  discovery. 

"  But,"   he  cried  with  the  vehemence   of   a   sudden 


132  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

thought,  "  you  are  up  here  —  safe !  Safe,  whatever 
happens  down  there !  Nothing  that  occurs  there  can 
affect  you ! " 

"  Safe,  of  course,"  she  spoke  wonderingly.  "  What 
danger  is  there?  " 

The  man  turned.  "  For  God's  sake  —  let  me  think 
a  moment ! "  He  dropped  on  the  pine  needles  and 
sat  with  his  hands  covering  his  face  and  his  fingers 
pressed  into  his  temples.  She  came  over. 

"Does  that  prevent  your  thinking?"  she  softly 
asked,  dropping  on  her  knees  at  his  side  and  letting 
one  hand  rest  on  his  shoulder. 

For  moments,  lengthening  into  minutes,  he  sat  immov- 
able, fighting  back  the  agonized  and  torrential  flood 
of  thought  which  burst  upon  him  with  unwarned  tempta- 
tion. The  danger  was  not  after  all  a  danger  to  the 
woman  he  loved,  but  a  menace  to  his  enemy.  She  was 
safe  three  thousand  feet  above  the  threatening  city.  He 
had  only  to  hold  his  hand,  perhaps,  for  a  half-hour; 
had  only  to  keep  her  here  and  let  matters  follow  their 
course. 

He  was  not  entertaining  the  thought,  except  to  assure 
himself  that  he  could  not  entertain  it,  but  it  was  rack- 
ing him  with  its  suddenness.  The  King  was  there 
—  in  peril.  She  was  here  —  safe.  Insistently  these 
two  facts  assaulted  his  brain. 

"  Pardon,     Senor."     Blanco     broke     noisily      down 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  133 

through  the  pines  and  halted  where  the  path  emerged. 
For  an  instant  he  stood  in  bewildered  surprise. 

"  Pardon,  Your  Highness  — "  he  exclaimed,  bending 
low;  then,  quenching  the  recognition  in  his  eyes  and 
assuming  mistake,  he  laughed.  "  Ah,  I  ask  forgive- 
ness, Senorita.  I  mistook  you  for  the  Princess.  The 
resemblance  is  strong.  I  see  my  error." 

"  Manuel ! "  Benton  rose  unsteadily  and  stared  at 
the  toreador  with  a  face  pallid  as  chalk.  He  spoke 
wildly.  "  Quick,  Manuel  —  have  you  learned  any- 
thing? " 

The  Spaniard  glanced  inquiringly  at  the  girl,  and 
as  Benton  nodded  reassurance  went  on  in  a  lowered 
voice.  Only  fragments  of  his  speech  reached  Cara's 
ears.  Her  own  thoughts  left  her  too  apathetic  to  listen. 

"  The  plan  is  this.  It  is  to  happen  at  the  Fortress 
do  Freres  this  afternoon  while  the  King  inspects  the 
arsenal.  Now,  in  fifteen  minutes !  "  He  pointed  down 
toward  the  city.  "  See,  the  cortege  leaves  the  Palace ! 
Lapas  was  to  be  here  at  the  rock  —  the  blessed  Saints 
help  him!  He  is  hobbled  to  his  telescope."  Swiftly 
he  rehearsed  the  story  as  it  had  come  from  the  lips  of 
Lapas. 

Benton  was  studying  the  Duke's  lodge  with  his 
glasses.  "  There  is  a  flag  flying  on  the  west  tower," 
he  muttered. 

He  turned  slowly  toward  the  Princess.     Outstanding 


134  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

veins  were  tracing  cordlike  lines  on  his  temples.  His 
fingers  trembled  as  he  focused  the  glasses. 

Blanco  looked  slowly  from  one  to  the  other.  Sud- 
denly he  threw  back  both  shoulders  and  his  eyes  grew 
bright  in  full  comprehension  of  the  situation  he  had 
discovered. 

"  Senor!  "  he  whispered. 

"  Yes  ?  "  echoed  the  American  in  a  dull  voice. 

"  Senor  —  suppose  —  suppose  I  have  confused  the 
signals  ?  "  The  tone  was  insinuating. 

Benton's  mind  flashed  back  to  a  Sunday  School  class 
of  his  childhood  and  his  infantile  horror  for  the  tale  of 
a  tempter  on  a  high  mountain  offering  the  possession 
of  all  the  world  if  only  —  if  only  — 

He  took  a  step  forward.  Speech  seemed  to  choke 
him. 

"  In  God's  name !  "  he  cried,  "  you  have  not  forgot- 
ten? " 

The  Spaniard  slowly  shook  his  head  and  smiled.  The 
expression  gave  to  his  face  a  touch  of  the  sinister. 
"  No  —  but  it  is  yet  possible  to  forget,  Senor.  I  serve 
no  King,  I  serve  you.  Sometimes  a  mistake  is  the 
truest  accuracy.  Quien  sabe?  " 

The  Andalusian  looked  at  the  girl  who  stood  puzzled 
and  waiting.  "  Sometimes  in  the  Plaza  de  Toros, 
Senor,"  he  went  on,  speaking  rapidly  and  tensely,  "  the 
throngs  cry,  '  Bravo,  matador!  '  and  toss  coins  into  the 


BENTON  MUST  DECIDE  135 

ring.  Yet  in  a  moment  the  same  throngs  may  shout 
until  their  throats  are  hoarse :  *  Bravo,  toro! '  A 
King  is  like  a  bull  in  the  ring,  Senor  —  he  has  a  fickle 
fate.  To  me  he  is  nothing  —  if  it  pleases  them  —  it 
is  their  King  —  let  them  do  as  they  wish."  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Benton  straightened.  "  Manuel,"  he  said  with  a 
strained  tone,  "  the  flag  comes  down." 

The  Andalusian  smiled  regretfully,  and  once  more 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  As  you  say,  Senor,  but  are  you  sure  you  wish  it 
so?" 

"  Manuel,  I  mean  that ! "  said  the  American  with 
a  steadied  voice.  "And  for  God's  sake,  Manuel,"  he 
added  wildly,  "  throw  the  rope  over  the  gorge  when  you 
have  done  it !  " 

For  a  moment  Benton  stood  rigid,  his  hands  clenched 
together  at  his  back  as  he  watched  the  quick  step  of 
the  Andalusian  climbing  to  the  flag-staff.  At  last  he 
turned  dully  and  looked  down  where  he  could  see  the 
royal  cortege,  not  yet  half-way  along  the  road  to  the 
fortress,  then  he  went  over  to  the  girl's  side. 

"  Cara,"  he  said,  "  I  have  earned  the  right  to  kiss 
you  good-by." 

"  It's  yours  without  the  earning,  but  good-by  — !  " 
She  shuddered.  "What  does  it  all  mean?"  she  asked 
in  bewilderment.  "  What  was  it  you  discussed?  " 


136  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Listen,"  he  commanded.  "  Tell  Von  Ritz  or  Karyl 
that  Lapas  is  a  traitor  and  a  prisoner  in  the  observa- 
tory; that  Louis  is  at  his  lodge  and  that  the  Countess 
Astaride  is  a  conspirator  in  a  plot  to  assassinate  the 
King.  Tell  them  that  a  percussion  cap  and  key  con- 
nect the  magazines  of  do  Freres  with  the  city." 

The  Princess  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  slowly 
widened  in  amazed  comprehension.  "  I  understand," 
she  whispered.  "  And  the  flag  —  see,  it  is  coming  down 
—  that  means?  " 

He  dropped  on  one  knee  and  lifted  her  fingers  to  his 
lips.  "  It  means  that  you  are  to  be  crowned  Queen 
in  Galavia  to-morrow,"  he  answered  with  a  groan. 
"  Long  live  the  Queen !  " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CONCERNING    FAREWELLS    AND    WARNINGS 

<  <mO-MORROW!"  repeated  the  girl  with  a  shud- 
A     der. 

Both  stood  silent  under  such  a  strain  as  cannot  be 
long  sustained.  At  the  crunch  of  branch  underfoot 
and  the  returning  Blanco's,  "  Senor!  Senor!  "  both 
started  violently. 

"Look,  Senor,"  exclaimed  the  Spaniard.  "The 
King  has  entered  the  fortress."  Then,  seeing  that  the 
eyes  of  both  man  and  girl  turned  at  his  words  from 
an  intent  gaze,  not  on  the  town  but  the  opposite  hills, 
he  added,  half -apologetic :  "  I  shall  go,  Senor,  and  look 
to  my  prisoner.  If  you  need  me,  I  shall  be  there." 

With  the  same  stricken  misery  in  her  eyes  that  they 
had  worn  as  she  passed  in  her  carriage,  Cara  re- 
mained motionless  and  silent. 

The  bottom  of  the  valley  grew  cloudy  with  shadow. 
The  sun  was  kissing  into  rosy  pink  the  snow  caps  of 
the  western  ridge.  A  cavalcade  of  horsemen  emerged 
at  last  from  do  Freres  and  started  at  a  smart  trot  for 
the  Palace.  Cara  pointed  downward  with  one  tremulous 
finger.  Benton  nodded. 

137 


138  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Safe,"  he  said,  but  without  enthusiasm. 

"  I  must  go."  Cara  started  down  the  path  and  the 
man  walked  beside  her  as  far  as  the  battered  gate  which 
hung  awry  from  its  broken  columns.  Over  it  now 
clambered  masses  of  vine  richly  purple  with  bougon- 
villea.  She  broke  off  a  branch  and  handed  it  to  him. 
"  Purple,"  she  said  again,  "  is  the  color  of  mourning 
and  royalty." 

Blanco  noted  the  coming  of  evening  and  realized 
that  it  would  be  well  to  reach  the  level  of  the  city  before 
dark.  He  knew  that  if  Lapas  was  to  be  turned  over 
to  Karyl's  authorities,  steps  to  that  end  should  be  taken 
before  he  was  discovered  and  released  by  those  of  his 
own  faction.  He  accordingly  made  his  way  back  to 
the  gate. 

Benton  was  still  standing,  looking  down  the  alley- 
way which  ran  between  the  half  ruined  lines  of 
masonry.  His  shoulders  unconsciously  sagged. 

The  Spaniard  approached  quietly  and  stood  for  a 
moment  unwilling  to  interrupt,  then  in  a  low  voice 
touched  with  that  affectionate  note  which  men  are  not 
ashamed  to  show  even  to  other  men  in  the  Latin  coun- 
tries, he  said :  "  Senor  Benton !  " 

The  American  turned  and  put  out  his  hand,  grasp- 
ing that  of  the  toreador.  His  grip  said  what  his  lips 
left  unworded. 

"  Dios  mio!  "  exclaimed  Blanco  with  a  black  scowl. 


FAREWELLS  AND  WARNINGS          139 

"  We  saved  the  King,  but  we  bought  his  life  and  his 
throne  too  high !  He  cost  too  dear !  " 

"Blanco,"  Benton  spoke  with  difficulty,  "I  have 
brought  you  with  me  and  you  have  asked  no  questions. 
The  story  is  not  mine  to  tell." 

The  Andalusian  raised  a  hand  in  protestation. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  tell  me  anything, 
Senor.  I  have  seen  enough.  And  I  know  the  King 
was  not  worth  the  price." 

Benton  shook  his  head.  "  Are  you  going  on  with  me, 
now  that  you  know  what  you  know?  " 

"  Senor,  it  grieves  me  that  you  should  ask.  I  told 
you  I  was  at  your  disposition."  The  Spaniard  went 
on  talking  rapidly,  talking  with  lips  and  eyes  and 
gesture.  "  When  you  came  to  Cadiz  and  took  me  with 
you  on  the  small  steamer,  I  did  not  ask  why.  I  thought 
it  was  as  Americans  are  interested  in  all  things  —  or 
perhaps  because  the  many  million  pesetas  of  the  Senor's 
fortune  might  be  affected  by  changing  the  map  of 
Enrope.  No  matter.  You  were  interested.  It  was 
enough." 

He  swept  both  hands  apart. 

"  But  had  I  known  then  what  to-day  has  taught  me, 
I  should  have  held  my  tongue  that  evening  when  the 
Pretender  plotted  in  the  cafe." 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Benton  slowly,  "  there  will  be 
festivity.  I  can't  be  here  then.  I  must  leave  to-night 


140  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

—  but  you,  amigo  mio,  you  must  stay  and  watch.  If 
Lapas  is  taken  prisoner  and  silenced  there  will  be  no 
one  in  Puntal  who  will  suspect  you.  No  one  knew  me 
and  if  I  leave  at  once,  the  Countess  will  hardly  learn 
who  was  the  mysterious  man  to  whom  she  gave  a  ring." 

"  But,  Senor," —  Blanco  was  dubious  — "  would  it  not 
be  better  that  I  should  be  with  you?  " 

"  You  can  serve  me  better  by  remaining  here.  I 
would  rather  have  you  near  Her." 

The  man  from  Cadiz  nodded  and  crossed  himself. 

"  I  am  pledged,  Senor,"  he  asserted. 

"  Then,"  continued  the  American,  "  for  a  time  we 
must  separate.  The  Isis  will  sail  to-night." 

The  men  walked  together  to  the  terminal  station  of 
the  small  ratchet  railway.  When  they  parted  the  Span- 
iard and  the  yachtsman  had  arranged  a  telegraph  code 
which  might  be  used  by  the  small  but  complete  wireless 
equipment  of  the  Isis.  An  hour  later  the  launch  from 
the  yacht  took  him  aboard  at  the  ancient  stone  jetty, 
where  the  fruit-venders  and  wine-sellers  shouted  their 
jargon,  and  the  seaweed  clung  to  the  landing  stage. 

When  Karyl  had  returned  to  the  Palace  after  the  in- 
spection of  the  Fortress  do  Freres,  he  had  sent  word 
at  once  to  that  part  of  the  Palace  where  Cara  had  her 
suite.  She  was  accompanied  by  her  aunt,  the  Duchess 
of  Apsberg,  and  her  English  cousin,  Lilian  Carrowes, 


FAREWELLS  AND  WARNINGS          141 

who  also  knew  something  of  the  life  in  America  with  the 
Bristows. 

The  King  craved  an  interview.  He  had  not  seen 
her  since  morning  and  his  request  conveyed  the  desola- 
tion occasioned  by  the  long  interval  of  empty  time. 

The  girl,  who  in  the  more  informal  phases  had  con- 
sistently defied  the  Court  etiquette,  sent  an  affirmative 
reply,  and  Karyl,  still  in  uniform  and  dust-stained, 
came  at  once  to  the  rooms  where  she  was  to  receive  him. 

There  was  much  to  talk  of,  and  the  King  came  for- 
ward eagerly,  but  the  girl  halted  his  protestations  and 
rapidly  sketched  for  him  the  summary  of  all  she  had 
learned  that  afternoon. 

With  growing  astonishment  Karyl  listened,  then 
slowly  his  brows  came  together  in  a  frown. 

It  was  distasteful  to  him  beyond  expression  to  feel 
that  he  owed  his  life  and  throne  to  Benton,  but  of 
that  he  said  nothing.  Lapas  had  been,  in  the  days  of 
his  childhood,  his  playmate.  He  had  been  the  recipient 
of  every  possible  favor,  and  Karyl,  himself  ingenuous 
and  loyal  to  his  friends,  felt  with  double  bitterness  that 
not  only  had  his  enemy  saved  him,  but,  too,  his  friend 
had  betrayed  him. 

Then  came  a  hurried  message  from  Von  Ritz,  who 
begged  to  see  the  King  at  once.  The  soldier  must 
have  been  only  a  step  behind  his  messenger,  for  hardly 
had  his  admittance  been  ordered  when  he  appeared. 


14&  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  officer  looked  from  the  King  to  the  Princess,  and 
his  eyes  telegraphed  a  request  for  a  moment  of  private 
audience. 

"  You  may  as  well  speak  here,"  said  Karyl  dryly. 
"  Her  Highness  knows  what  you  are  about  to  say." 

"  Lieutenant  Lapas,"  began  Von  Ritz  imperturba- 
bly,  "  has  not  been  seen  at  the  Palace  to-day.  His 
duties  required  his  presence  this  evening.  He  was  to  be 
near  Your  Majesty  at  the  coronation  to-morrow." 

"  Where  is  he?  "  demanded  the  King. 

"  That  is  what  I  should  like  to  know,"  replied  Von 
Ritz.  "  I  learn  that  last  night  the  Count  Borttorff  was 
in  Puntal  and  that  Lapas  was  with  him.  To-day  the 
Countess  Astaride  left  Puntal,  greatly  agitated.  I  am 
informed  that  from  her  window  she  watched  do 
Freres  with  glasses  during  Your  Majesty's  visit 
there,  and  that  when  you  left  she  swooned.  Within 
ten  minutes  she  was  on  her  way  to  the  quay  and  boarded 
the  out-going  steamer  for  Villefranche.  These  things 
may  spell  grave  danger." 

So  rarely  had  Karyl  been  able  to  anticipate  Von  Ritz 
in  even  the  smallest  matter  that  now,  despite  his  own 
chagrin,  he  could  not  repress  a  cynical  smile  as  he  in- 
quired: "  What  do  you  make  of  it?  " 

Von  Ritz  shook  his  head.  "  I  shall  report  to  Your 
Majesty  within  an  hour,"  he  responded. 

"  That  is  not  necessary,"  Karyl  spoke  coolly.     "  You 


FAREWELLS  AND  WARNINGS          143 

will,  I  am  informed,  find  Lieutenant  Lapas  bound  to  a 
telescope  at  the  Rock.  You  will  find  the  explosives  at 
do  Freres  connected  with  a  percussion  cap  which  was 
to  have  been  touched  while  we  were  there  this  afternoon. 
The  Countess  was  disappointed  because  the  percussion 
cap  was  not  exploded.  Sometimes,  when  ladies  are  bit- 
terly grieved,  they  swoon." 

For  a  moment  the  older  man  studied  the  younger  with 
an  expression  of  surprise,  then  the  sphinx-like  gravity 
returned  to  his  face. 

"  Your  Majesty,  may  I  inquire  why  the  cap  failed 
to  explode?  "  he  asked,  with  pardonable  curiosity. 

"Because" — Karyl's  cheeks  flushed  hotly — "an 
American  gentleman,  who  had  been  here  a  few  hours, 
intercepted  the  signal  —  and  reversed  it." 

For  an  instant  Von  Ritz  looked  fixedly  into  the  face 
of  the  King,  then  he  bowed. 

"  In  that  case,"  he  commented,  "  there  are  various 
things  to  be  done." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

COUNTESS    AND    CABINET    NOIR    JOIN    FORCES 


Monsieur  Frai^ois  Jusseret,  the  cleverest 
unattached  ambassador  of  France's  Cabinet 
Noir,  had  first  met  the  Countess  Astaride,  his  sardonic 
eyes  had  twinkled  dry  appreciation. 

This  meeting  had  seemed  to  be  the  result  of  a  chance 
introduction.  It  had  in  reality  been  carefully  designed 
by  the  French  manipulator  of  underground  wires. 
Louis  Delgado  he  already  knew,  and  held  in  contempt, 
yet  Louis  was  the  only  possible  instrument  for  use 
in  converting  certain  vague  possibilities  into  definite 
realities.  Changing  the  nebulous  into  the  concrete  ; 
shifting  the  dotted  line  of  a  frontier  from  here  to  there 
on  a  map;  changing  the  likeness  that  adorned  a  coin 
or  postage-stamp:  these  were  things  to  which  Mon- 
sieur Jusseret  lent  himself  with  the  same  zest  that 
actuates  the  hunting  dog  and  makes  his  work  also 
his  passion. 

If  the  vacillation  of  Louis  Delgado  could  be  com- 
plemented by  the  strong  ambition  of  a  woman,  per- 
haps he  might  be  almost  as  serviceable  as  though  the 
144 


COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR        145 

strength  were  inherent.  And  Paris  knew  that  Louis 
worshiped  at  the  shrine  of  the  Countess  Astaride. 
The  Countess  was  therefore  worth  inspecting. 

The  presentation  occurred  in  Paris,  when  the  Duke 
took  his  acquaintance  to  the  charming  apartments 
overlooking  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  where  the  lady 
poured  tea  for  a  small  salon  enlisted  from  that  colony 
of  ambitious  and  broken-hearted  men  and  women  who 
hold  fanatically  to  the  faith  that  some  throne,  occu- 
pied by  another,  should  be  their  own.  Here  with  cere- 
mony and  stately  etiquette  foregathered  Carlists  and. 
Bonapartists  and  exiled  Dictators  from  South  America. 
Here  one  heard  the  gossip  of  large  conspiracies  that 
come  to  nothing;  of  revolutions  that  go  no  farther 
than  talk. 

In  Paris  the  Duke  Louis  Delgado  was  nursing,  with 
lukewarm  indignation,  wrath  against  his  royal  uncle 
of  Galavia  who  had  fixed  upon  him  a  sort  of  modified 
exile. 

Louis  had  only  a  languid  interest  in  the  feud  between 
his  arm  of  the  family  and  the  reigning  branch.  He 
would  willingly  enough  have  taken  a  scepter  from  the 
hand  of  any  King-maker  who  proffered  it,  but  he  would 
certainly  never,  of  his  own  incentive,  have  struck  a 
blow  for  a  throne. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  as  he  sat  at  a  cafe  table  on  the 
Champs  Ely  sees  when  awakening  dreams  of  Spring 


146  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

were  in  the  air  and  a  military  band  was  playing  in  the 
distance,  dormant  ambitions  awoke.  Sometimes  when 
he  watched  the  opalescent  gleam  in  his  glass  as  the 
garfon  carefully  dripped  water  over  absinthe,  he  would 
picture  himself  wresting  from  the  incumbent,  the  Crown 
of  Galavia,  and  would  hear  throngs  shouting  "  Long 
live  King  Louis ! "  At  such  moments  his  stimulated 
spirit  would  indulge  in  large  visions,  and  his  half- 
degenerate  face  would  smile  through  its  gentle  but 
dissipated  languor. 

Louis  Delgado  was  a  man  of  inaction.  He  had 
that  quality  of  personal  daring  which  is  not  akin  to 
moral  resoluteness.  He  was  ready  enough  at  a  fancied 
insult  to  exchange  cards  and  meet  his  adversary  on  the 
field,  but  a  throne  against  which  he  plotted  was  as 
safe,  unless  threatened  by  outside  influences,  as  a  throne 
may  ever  be. 

When  Louis  presented  Jusseret  to  the  Countess  As- 
taride  there  flashed  between  the  woman  of  audacious 
imagination  and  the  master  of  intrigue  a  message  of 
kinship.  The  Frenchman  bent  low  over  her  hand. 

"  That  hand,  Madame,"  he  had  whispered,  "  was 
made  to  wield  a  scepter." 

The  Countess  had  laughed  with  the  melodious  zylo- 
phone  note  that  caressed  the  ear,  and  had  flashed  on 
Jusseret  her  smile  which  was  a  magic  thing  of  ivory 
and  flesh  and  sudden  sunshine.  She  had  held  up  the 


COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR        147 

slender  fingers  of  the  hand  he  had  flattered,  possibly  a 
trace  pleased  with  the  effect  of  the  Duke's  latest  gift, 
a  huge  emerald  set  about  with  small  but  remarkably 
pure  brilliants.  She  had  contemplated  it,  critically,  and 
after  a  brief  silence  had  let  her  eyes  wander  from  its 
jewels  to  the  Frenchman's  face. 

"  Wielding  a  scepter,  Monsieur,"  she  had  suggested 
smilingly,  "  is  less  difficult  than  seizing  a  scepter.  I 
fear  I  should  need  a  stronger  hand." 

"  Ah,  but  Madame,"  the  Frenchman  had  hastened 
to  protest,  "  these  are  the  days  of  the  deft  finger  and 
the  deft  brain.  Even  crowns  to-day  are  not  won  in 
tug-of-war." 

The  woman  had  looked  at  him  half-seriously,  half- 
challengingly. 

"  I  am  told,  Monsieur  Jusseret,"  she  said,  "  that  no 
government  in  Europe  has  a  secret  which  you  do  not 
know.  I  am  told  that  you  have  changed  a  crown  or 
two  from  head  to  head  in  your  career.  Let  me  see  your 
hand." 

Instantly  he  had  held  it  out.  The  fastidiously  mani- 
cured fingers  were  as  tapering  and  white  as  her  own. 

"  Madame,"  he  observed  gravely,  "  you  flatter  me. 
My  hand  has  done  nothing.  But  I  do  not  attribute  its 
failure  to  its  lack  of  brawn." 

"  Some  day,"  murmured  Delgado,  from  his  inert 
posture  in  the  deep  cushions  of  a  divan,  "  when  the 


148  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

time  is  ripe,  I  shall  strike  a  decisive  blow  for  the  Throne 
of  Galavia." 

Jusseret's  lip  had  half-curled,  then  swiftly  he  had 
turned  and  flashed  a  look  of  inquiry  upon  the  woman. 
Her  eyes  had  been  on  Louis  and  she  had  not  caught 
the  quick  glint  that  came  into  the  Frenchman's  pupils, 
or  the  thoughtful  regard  with  which  he  studied  her 
and  the  Duke  across  the  edge  of  his  teacup.  Later, 
when  he  rose  to  make  his  adieux,  she  noted  the  thought- 
ful expression  on  his  face. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  had  said  enigmatically,  and  had 
paused  to  allow  his  meaning  to  sink  in,  "  sometimes 
a  scepter  stays  where  it  is,  not  because  the  hand  that 
holds  it  is  strong,  but  because  the  outstretched  hand 
is  weak  or  inept.  Your  hand  is  suited." 

She  had  searched  his  eyes  with  her  own  just  long 
enough  to  make  him  feel  that  in  the  give-and-take  of 
glances  hers  did  not  drop  or  evade,  and  he,  trained  in 
the  niceties  of  diplomatic  warfare,  had  caught  the 
message. 

So  the  Countess  had  been  fired  with  ardent  dreams 
and  later,  when  the  time  seemed  ripe,  it  was  to  her  that 
Jusseret  went,  and  with  her  that  he  made  his  secret  alli- 
ance. 

The  ambitions  cherished  by  Marie  Astaride  to  become 
Louis'  queen  were  secondary  to  a  sincere  devotion  for 
Louis  himself. 


COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR        149 

When  at  the  last  he  had  weakened  and  threatened  to 
crumple,  it  was  she  who  goaded  him  back  to  resolution. 
When  the  Duke  had  gone  half-heartedly  to  his  lodge 
to  await  the  decision  of  the  European  Powers,  it  was 
she  who  went  to  Puntal  to  direct  the  conspirators  and 
watch,  from  the  windows  of  her  hotel  suite,  the  for- 
tress on  the  jetty. 

Her  one  deplorable  error  had  been  in  mistaking  Ben- 
ton  for  Martin.  This  had  been  natural  enough. 
Though  she  had  never  met  the  "  English  Jackal,"  she 
had  once  or  twice  seen  him  at  a  distance,  and  she  had 
been  misled  by  a  strong  resemblance  and  an  excessive 
eagerness. 

The  afternoon  she  had  spent  on  the  balcony  of  her 
suite,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  Fortress  do  Freres. 

At  last,  with  a  wildly  beating  heart  she  had  seen  the 
King,  Von  Ritz  and  the  escort  ride  up  to  the  entrance 
and  disappear.  She  had  waited  —  waited  —  waited, 
her  nerves  set  for  the  climax,  until  the  continued  silence 
seemed  an  unendurable  shock. 

Then  the  King  and  escort  emerged.  She,  sitting 
pale  and  rigid,  saw  them  mount  and  turn  back  un- 
harmed toward  the  city.  Her  ears,  eagerly  set  for  the 
detonation  which  should  shake  the  town  and  reverberate 
along  the  mountain  sides,  ached  with  the  emptiness  of 
silence. 

Across  the  street  a  soldier,  off  duty  and  in  civilian 


150  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

clothes,  sat  on  the  sea-wall  and  whittled.  Incidentally 
he  noticed  that  Madame  the  Countess  was  interested 
beyond  the  usual  in  some  matter.  He  was  there  to 
notice  Madame  the  Countess.  His  instructions  from 
Von  Ritz  had  been  to  keep  a  record  of  her  goings  and 
comings,  and  who  came  to  see  her  or  went  away. 

Therefore,  when  the  King  and  his  small  retinue  had 
trotted  past  the  window  and  when  Madame  the  Countess 
rose  to  go  in,  and  when  just  as  she  crossed  the  low  sill 
of  the  window  she  suddenly  caught  up  both  hands  to 
her  throat  and  fell  heavily  to  the  floor,  the  soldier, 
whittling  a  small  crucifix,  made  a  record  of  that  also. 
When  a  moment  later  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  not 
seen  in  Puntal  for  months,  but  whom  he  knew  as  the 
Count  Borttorff,  because  that  gentleman  had  formerly 
been  Major  of  his  battalion,  hurriedly  left  a  closed 
carriage  and  entered  the  place,  the  incident  was  noted. 
When  still  later  both  Borttorff  and  the  Countess  emerged 
and  reentered  the  conveyance,  driving  rapidly  away, 
he  likewise  noted  these  things.  Going  from  the  pier 
whither  he  had  followed  the  closed  carriage,  he  re- 
ported his  observations  with  soldierly  dispatch  to 
Colonel  Von  Ritz. 

The  Grand  Duke  Louis  meanwhile,  waiting  in  great 
anxiety,  had  received  the  message  which  had  come  by 
the  wireless  mast.  The  words  were  in  code,  and  being 
translated  they  read:  "  France,  Italy,  Spain,  Portu- 


COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR        151 

gal  will  recognize.  Strike."  The  signature  was  "  Jt.," 
which  Delgado  knew  for  Jusseret.  The  Duke  had  been 
greatly  excited.  He  paced  the  room  in  a  nervous 
tremor.  It  was  arranged  that  a  small  steamer,  which 
had  stood  a  short  distance  offshore  since  yesterday  to 
relay  the  wireless  message  and  make  it  doubly  sure, 
should  pick  the  Duke  up  as  soon  as  Lapas  signaled 
by  a  triple  dip  of  the  flag  that  the  fortress  had  been 
destroyed.  The  steamer  was  then  to  rush  the  Grand 
Duke  around  the  cape  to  Puntal,  bringing  him  in  as 
though  he  had  come  from  Spain.  Those  conspirators 
who  were  in  the  capital,  strengthened  by  those  who 
would  declare  for  Louis,  with  Karyl  dead  and  no  other 
heir  existent,  would  proclaim  him  King.  Lapas  would 
see  that  the  royal  salute  was  fired  as  the  steamer  en- 
tered the  harbor,  and  the  Countess  would  either  meet 
him  and  explain  all  the  details  or  would  speak  with 
him  by  Marconi  if  she  had  left  the  town. 

Louis  spent  the  forenoon  in  an  agony  of  anxiety 
and  impatience.  All  afternoon  he  watched  through 
binoculars  the  white  and  blue  and  green  flag  on  the 
rock  above  him.  He  was  waiting  for  the  triple  dip 
that  should  tell  him  the  fortress  had  been  scattered  in 
debris  and  with  it  the  government.  Evidently  the 
King  was  late  going  to  the  arsenal. 

He  had  imagined  it  would  be  earlier.  The  hours 
dragged  interminably.  Louis  walked  the  stone  buttress 


152  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

where  the  flag  which  he  had  raised  in  signal  to  Lapas 
flapped  and  whipped  against  its  staff.  At  last  his 
binoculars,  fixed  on  the  rock,  caught  the  dip  of  the 
colors  there.  With  a  great  sigh  of  relief  the  Duke 
watched  to  see  them  rise  and  dip,  rise  and  dip  again. 
The  flag  came  down  the  length  of  the  pole  —  and  did 
not  go  up. 

Panic  seized  the  Pretender.  There  was  no  way  of 
talking  with  the  ridge  three  thousand  feet  above.  It 
was  a  climb  of  an  hour  and  a  half  by  the  pass.  Evi- 
dently there  had  been  a  miscarriage.  In  the  prear- 
ranged code  of  flag  signals  the  only  provision  for  the 
drooping  of  the  colors  on  the  hill  was  in  the  event  that 
it  should  be  wished  to  stop  the  explosion.  That  would 
be  only  in  the  event  of  refusal  by  the  governments  to 
recognize;  the  governments  had  not  refused!  Possibly 
Lapas  had  turned  traitor ! 

There  had  also  been  some  unexplained  delay  seaward. 
The  little  steamer,  which  should  have  remained  near  by, 
was  a  speck  on  the  horizon,  and  without  her  there  was 
no  possibility  of  escape.  Wildly  Louis,  the  Dreamer, 
hurried  to  his  improvised  Marconi  station  and  called 
the  ship.  Finally  toward  evening  came  a  response 
and  with  it  a  message  from  somewhere  out  at  sea,  re- 
layed from  ship  to  ship  around  the  peninsula. 

The     message     said     simply     in     code :     "  Failure. 


COUNTESS  AND  CABINET  NOIR        153 

Make  your  escape."  It  was  signed  "  M.  A." —  Marie 
Astaride. 

Louis  rushed,  panic-stricken,  down  to  the  shore.  He 
and  the  few  men  with  him  paced  the  beach  in  the  set- 
tling twilight  with  desperate  anxiety.  The  steamer 
seemed  to  creep  in,  snail-like,  over  the  smooth  water. 
Meanwhile  binoculars  fixed  on  the  pass  showed  a 
number  of  small  specks  sifting  like  ants  through  the 
lofty  opening.  Troops  were  advancing.  It  was  now 
the  life-and-death  question  of  which  would  arrive  first, 
the  boats  from  the  ship  that  had  stood  off  at  sea  a 
bit  too  long,  or  the  soldiers  coming  across  the  broken 
backbone  of  the  mountains. 

At  last  the  ship  had  drawn  near,  and  circled  under 
full  steam  far  enough  out  to  get  away  to  a  flying 
start  as  soon  as  the  Ducal  party  had  been  taken  on 
board.  Small  boats  were  rushed  toward  the  beach  and 
Louis,  the  Dreamer,  with  his  party  waded  knee-deep 
into  the  water  to  meet  the  rescuers. 

At  the  same  moment  a  bugle  call  announced  the 
coming  of  Karyl's  soldiery. 

As  Louis  Delgado  went  over  the  side,  he  turned 
quickly  back  and,  leaning  over  the  rail,  gazed  through 
the  settling  darkness  toward  shore. 

"  Do  we  make  for  Puntal,  Your  Majesty?  "  inquired 
the  captain,  saluting. 


154  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Louis  turned  coldly.     "  No." 

The  officer  looked  at  the  Duke  for  a  moment  and 
read  defeat  in  his  eyes. 

"  Where  then  —  Your  Grace?  "  he  inquired. 

Louis  winced  under  the  quick  amendment  of  title. 
"  Anywhere,"  he  said  shortly ;  "  anywhere  —  except 
Puntal." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    TOREADOR    BECOMES    AMBASSADOR 

JV/TANUEL  BLANCO  was  ubiquitous  during  the 
•^  •*•  first  days  following  the  coronation.  He  listened 
to  the  fragments  of  talk  that  drifted  along  the 
streets.  He  frequented  the  band  concerts  in  the  Public 
Gardens  and  drank  native  vintages  in  the  wine-shops. 
He  elbowed  his  way  naively  into  chattering  groups  with 
his  ears  primed  for  a  careless  word.  Nowhere  did  he 
catch  a  note  hinting  of  intrigue  or  danger.  It  seemed 
a  sound  conclusion  that  if  the  plotters  had  not  en- 
tirely surrendered  their  project  for  switching  Kings  in 
Galavia,  their  conspiracies  were  being  once  more 
fomented  on  foreign  soil,  just  as  the  first  plan  had  been 
incubated  in  Cadiz. 

One  evening  shortly  after  the  dual  celebration,  a 
steamer  laden  with  tourists  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay, 
outlined  in  points  of  light  like  a  set-piece  of  fireworks. 
Hundreds  of  new  sight-seeing  faces  swarmed  along  the 
narrow,  cobbled  streets.  This  would  be  a  great  night 
in  the  Strangers'  Club  and  Blanco  decided  to  spend  an 
hour  there. 

155 


156  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

In  evening  dress  he  moved  through  the  gardens  and 
pavilions  of  the  casino  on  the  rock,  where  with  the 
coming  of  darkness  the  gayety  of  the  town  began  to 
focus  and  sparkle. 

The  coronation  of  Karyl  had  brought  to  an  end 
official  mourning  for  the  late  King,  and  the  crepe  which 
had  palled  the  national  insignia  on  all  public  buildings 
had  been  cleared  away.  With  this  restoration  of  public 
gayety  came  a  liberal  sprinkling  of  uniforms  to  the 
throngs  that  crowded  the  ball-rooms,  tea-gardens  and 
gambling  halls. 

Blanco  was  standing  apart,  looking  on,  when  he  felt 
a  light  touch  on  his  shoulder  and  turned  to  find  a  young 
officer  at  his  back  who  smilingly  begged  him  for  a 
moment  in  the  gardens.  The  Spaniard  noticed  that 
the  man  who  addressed  him  wore  the  epaulettes  of  a 
Captain  of  Infantry  and  the  added  stripe  and  crown 
of  gold  lace  at  the  cuff  which  designated  service  in  the 
household  of  the  reigning  family. 

He  turned  and  accompanied  the  officer  through  the 
wide  door  into  the  lantern-hung  grounds,  passing  be- 
tween the  groups  which  clustered  everywhere  about 
small  wicker  tea-tables.  There  were  no  quiet  or  se- 
cluded spots  in  the  gardens  of  the  Strangers'  Club 
to-night,  but  after  a  brief  glance  right  and  left  the 
Captain  led  the  way  to  a  table  in  a  shadowed  niche 
between  two  doors.  The  light  there  was  more  shadowed 


TOREADOR  TURNS  AMBASSADOR      157 

and  the  tides  of  promenaders  did  not  crowd  so  close 
upon  it  as  elsewhere.  As  the  two  came  up  a  third 
man  rose  from  this  table  and  Manuel  found  himself 
looking  into  the  flinty  eyes  of  Colonel  Von  Ritz. 

Von  Ritz  spoke  briefly.  If  Senor  Blanco  could 
spare  the  time,  His  Majesty  wished  to  speak  with  him. 

The  younger  officer  turned  back  into  the  casino  and 
Von  Ritz  led  the  toreador  through  the  front  gardens, 
where  the  tennis  courts  lay  bare  between  the  palms. 
The  acacias  and  sycamores  were  soft,  dark  spots  against 
the  far-flung  procession  of  the  stars. 

The  street  outside  was  crowded  with  fiacres  and  cabs. 
Von  Ritz  signaled  to  a  footman  and  in  a  moment  more 
Blanco  and  his  escort  had  stepped  into  a  closed  car- 
riage and  were  being  driven  toward  the  Palace.  They 
entered  by  a  side  passage  and  the  Colonel  conducted 
him  through  several  halls  and  chambers  filled  with 
uniformed  officers,  and  finally  into  a  more  remote  part 
of  the  building  where  they  met  only  an  occasional 
servant.  At  last  they  came  into  a  great  room  entirely 
empty  but  for  themselves.  About  the  walls  hung 
ripened  portraits.  The  decorations  were  of  Arabesque 
mosaics  with  fantastic  panels  of  Moorish  tiling.  It 
might  have  been  a  grandee's  house  in  Seville,  patterned 
on  the  Alcazar.  Evidently  this  was  part  of  a  private 
suite.  Heavy  portieres  were  only  partly  drawn  across 
a  wide  window  with  the  sill  at  the  floor  level,  and 


158  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

through  them  Blanco  dimly  saw  a  balcony  giving 
out  over  a  small  garden,  and  commanding  more  dis- 
tantly the  harbor  and  town  lights  below.  From 
somewhere  in  the  garden  came  the  splashing  of  a  small 
fountain. 

Here  Von  Ritz  left  his  charge  to  himself,  silently 
departing  with  a  bow.  For  a  while  the  Spaniard  re- 
mained alone.  The  room  was  not  so  brightly  illumi- 
nated as  many  through  which  he  had  come  on  his  way 
across  the  Palace.  Light  filtered  through  swinging 
lamps  of  wrought  metal  encrusted  with  prisms  of  green 
and  amber  and  garnet.  The  Moorish  scheme  depends 
in  part  upon  its  shadows.  Finally  a  gentleman  en- 
tered from  a  balcony.  He  was  neither  in  uniform  nor 
in  evening  dress.  His  face  was  smooth-shaven  and 
pleasing. 

Blanco  fancied  this  was  a  secretary  or  attendant  of 
some  sort,  and  was  conscious  of  slight  surprise  that  as 
he  entered  the  place  he  smoked  a  cigarette  with  a 
freedom  scarcely  fitting  the  King's  personal  chambers. 
At  the  window  the  gentleman  halted  and  looked  Blanco 
over  with  a  frank  but  not  offensive  curiosity.  Manuel 
returned  the  gaze,  wondering  where  he  had  seen  the 
face  before,  yet  unable  to  identify  it.  Then  the  new- 
comer crossed  and  proffered  the  Spaniard  a  cigarette 
from  a  gold  case,  which  the  toreador  declined  with  a 
shake  of  his  head. 


TOREADOR  TURNS  AMBASSADOR       159 

"  Gracias,  Senor"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  waiting  for 
the  King." 

The  other  smiled,  and  the  visitor  noticed  that  even 
in  smiling  his  lips  fell  into  lines  of  sadness. 

"  None  the  less,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  a  man  may 
as  well  have  the  solace  of  tobacco  while  he  waits  — 
even  though  he  awaits  a  King." 

The  Andalusian  once  more  shook  his  head,  and  the 
other  continued  to  study  him  with  that  undisguised 
interest  which  his  eyes  had  worn  from  the  first. 

"  So  you  are  one  of  the  two  men,"  he  said,  "  who 
learned  what  all  the  secret  agents  of  the  Throne  failed 
to  unearth.  Incidentally  it  is  to  you  that  the  present 
King  owes  not  only  his  Crown,  but  his  life  as  well." 
He  paused. 

"  After  all,"  he  went  on,  "  it  is  neither  your  fault 
nor  Mr.  Benton's  that  the  King  could  have  done  very 
well  without  either  the  Crown  or  his  life.  You  re- 
stored something  which  perhaps  he  held  worthless. 
.  .  .  But  that  is  his  own  misfortune." 

Blanco's  expressive  face  mirrored  a  shade  of  resent- 
ment. He  had  come  on  summons  from  the  King  and 
found  himself  listening  to  the  familiar,  even  disrespect- 
ful, chatter  of  some  underling  who  laughed  at  his 
Monarch  and  lightly  appraised  the  value  of  his  life 
while  he  smoked  cigarettes  in  the  Royal  apartments. 
The  Spaniard  bowed  stiffly.. 


160  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  observe  you  are  in  the  confidence  of  the  King," 
he  said,  in  a  tone  not  untouched  with  disapproval. 

The  other  man's  lips  curled  in  amusement.  After 
a  moment  he  replied  with  simple  gravity. 

"  I  am  the  King." 

Blanco  stood  gazing  in  astonishment.  "  You  —  the 
King ! "  Then,  recognizing  that  the  shaving  of  a 
mustache  and  the  change  into  civilian  clothes  had  made 
the  difference  in  a  face  and  figure  he  had  seen  only  on 
the  streets  and  though  shifting  crowds,  he  bowed  with 
belated  deference. 

Karyl  once  more  held  out  his  case.  "  Now  perhaps 
you  will  have  a  cigarette?  " 

The  toreador  took  one  and  lighted  it  slowly.  The 
King  went  on. 

"  My  sole  pleasure  is  pretending  that  I  am  not  a 
Monarch.  Between  ourselves,  I  should  prefer  other  em- 
ployment. You,  for  example,  I  am  told  have  won  fame 
in  the  bull  ring  —  and  it  was  fame  you  earned  for 
yourself." 

Blanco  flushed,  then,  bethinking  himself  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  brought  here  presumably  with  a  pur- 
pose, he  ventured  to  suggest:  "Your  Majesty  wished 
to  see  me  about  some  matter?  " 

The  other  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly,  "  it  was  not  really  I  who 
sent  for  you.  It  was  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen." 


TOREADOR  TURNS  AMBASSADOR      161 

Before  he  had  time  for  response  the  toreador  caught 
the  sound  of  a  shaken  curtain  behind  him,  but  since 
he  stood  facing  the  King  he  did  not  turn. 

Karyl,  however,  looked  up,  and  then  swiftly  crossed 
the  room.  As  he  passed,  Blanco  wheeled  to  face  him 
and  was  in  time  to  see  him  holding  back  the  portieres 
of  a  door  for  the  Queen  to  enter. 

She  was  gowned  in  black  with  the  sparkle  of  passe- 
menterie and  jet,  and  at  her  breast  she  wore  a  single 
red  rose.  As  she  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold, 
despite  the  majesty  of  her  slender  poise  it  appeared  to 
Blanco  that  her  grace  was  rather  that  of  something 
wild  and  free  and  that  the  Palace  seemed  to  cage  her. 
But  that  may  have  been  because,  as  she  paused,  her 
hands  went  to  her  breast  and  a  furrow  came  between 
her  brows,  while  the  corners  of  her  lips  drooped  wist- 
fully like  a  child's. 

The  King  stooped  to  kiss  her  hand,  and  she  turned 
toward  him  with  a  smile  which  was  pallid  and  which 
did  not  dissipate  the  unhappiness  of  her  face.  Then 
Karyl  straightened  and  said  to  Blanco,  who  felt 
himself  suddenly  grow  awkward  as  a  muleteer :  "  The 
Queen." 

Manuel  dropped  on  one  knee.  At  a  gesture  from 
Cara  he  rose  and  waited  for  her  to  speak.  Karyl  him- 
self halted  at  the  door  for  a  moment,  then  came  slowly 
back  into  the  room.  He  picked  up  from  a  tabouret 


162  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

a  decoration  of  the  Star  of  Galavia,  and,  crossing  over, 
pinned  it  to  the  Spaniard's  lapel. 

"  There ! "  he  said,  with  a  good-humored  laugh. 
"  You  made  me  a  somewhat  valueless  present  a  few  days 
back.  You  will  find  that  equally  useless,  Sir  Manuel. 
You  may  tell  Mr.  Benton  that  I  envy  him  such  an 
ally." 

With  a  bow  to  the  Queen,  the  King  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  stood  at  the  door,  with  the 
same  expression  and  the  same  silence,  unbroken  by  her 
since  her  entrance,  then  she  turned  to  the  Spaniard  and 
spoke  directly.  Her  voice  held  a  tremor. 

"  How  is  he?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  since  the  day  on  the  mountain," 
returned  Manuel. 

"  He  has,  in  you,  a  very  true  friend." 

"Your  Majesty,  I  am  his  servant,"  deprecated  the 
toreador. 

"  If  I  had  friends  like  you,"  she  smiled,  "  it  would 
matter  little  what  they  called  themselves.  And  yet, 
if  there  is  but  one  like  you,  I  had  rather  that  that  one 
be  with  him.  I  want  you  to  go  to  him  now  and  re- 
main with  him." 

"  Your  Majesty,  Senor  Benton  left  me  here  to  watch 
for  recurring  dangers.  I  am  now  satisfied  that  noth- 


TOREADOR  TURNS  AMBASSADOR      163 

ing  threatens,  at  least  for  the  present.  I  might,  as 
Your  Majesty  suggests,  better  be  with  him." 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  with  him ! "  she  eagerly  agreed ;  then 
her  voice  took  on  the  timbre  of  anxiety.  "  I  am 
afraid.  Sometimes  I  am  afraid  for  him.  He  is  not  a 
coward,  but  there  are  times  when  we  all  become  weak. 
I  appoint  you,  Sir  Manuel  — "  the  girl  smiled  wanly 
— "  I  appoint  you  my  Ambassador  to  be  with  him  and 
watch  after  him  —  and,  Sir  Manuel  — "  her  voice  shook 
a  little  with  very  deep  feeling  — "  I  am  giving  you  the 
office  I  had  rather  have  than  all  the  thrones  in  Chris- 
tendom !  Will  you  accept  it  ?  " 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  taking  it  reverently  in 
his  own,  the  Andalusian  bowed  low  over  it.  He  did 
not  kneel,  for  now  he  was  the  Ambassador  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  Sovereign.  "  With  all  the  Saints  for  my 
witnesses,"  he  declared  fervently,  "  I  swear  it  to  Your 
Majesty." 

There  was  gratitude  in  her  eyes  as  they  met  the  whole- 
heartedness  of  the  pledge  in  his.  For  a  moment  she 
seemed  unable  to  speak,  though  there  was  no  dimness 
of  tear-mist  in  her  pupils.  She  stood  very  upright 
and  silent,  and  her  breathing  was  deep.  Then  slowly 
her  hands  came  up  and  loosened  the  flower  at  her 
breast. 

"  The  King  has   decorated   you,   Sir  Manuel,"   she 


164  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

said.  "  I  don't  think  Mr.  Benton  would  care  for  knight- 
hood —  and  I  could  not  confer  it  —  but  sometime  — 
not  now  —  some  day  after  you  have  both  departed 
from  Galavia,  give  him  this.  Tell  him  it  may  have 
a  message  which  I  may  not  put  in  words.  If  he  can 
read  the  heart  of  a  rose  deeply  enough,  perhaps  he 
can  find  it  there." 

When  Blanco  had  carefully  folded  the  emblem  of 
his  embassy  in  paper  and  deposited  it  in  his  breast 
pocket,  she  gave  him  her  hand  again,  and,  turning,  went 
out  through  the  same  door  that  she  had  entered. 

Back  in  the  town,  Blanco  had  certain  investigations 
to  make.  He  knew  Von  Ritz's  men  had  been  too  late 
to  capture  the  Duke,  and  that  the  Countess  Astaride 
had  sailed  by  the  steamer  leaving  for  French  and 
Italian  ports.  Wherever  these  two  conspirators  should 
meet  would  become  the  next  point  to  watch. 

Blanco  felt  sure  that  Louis  would  be  willing  to  drop 
back  into  the  routine  of  his  life  in  Paris,  freshly  stocked 
with  pessimistic  memories  of  how  a  crown  had  slipped 
through  his  fingers.  It  would  take  driving  to  prevent 
him  lagging  into  the  inertia  of  sentimental  brooding. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  knew  that  the  Countess  As- 
taride, having  gone  so  far,  would  never  again  relin- 
quish her  ambitions.  He  knew  the  temper  of  the 
Countess's  mind  from  various  bits  of  gossip  he  had 
heard  and  now  also  from  what  he  had  seen.  He  knew 


TOREADOR  TURNS  AMBASSADOR      165 

that,  while  she  was  entirely  willing  to  participate  in 
a  murder  plot  to  further  her  designs,  she  was  not 
fired  solely  by  a  lust  for  power.  More  deeply  she 
was  actuated  by  her  wish  to  make  Louis  Delgado  a 
man  of  potentiality  because  she  loved  Louis  Delgado. 

That  love  might  evidence  itself  in  savagery  toward 
men  who  obstructed  the  road  which  her  lover  must  travel 
to  a  crown,  but  it  was  a  ferocity  born  of  love  for  the 
Pretender. 

Since  this  was  true  it  was  not  probable  that  she  would 
allow  the  matter  to  end  where  it  stood.  Even  if  she 
were  willing,  it  was  more  than  certain  that  Jusseret  had 
not  entered  into  the  undertaking  without  some  sufficient 
end  in  view.  Having  entered  it,  he  would  not  relinquish 
it  because  the  first  attempt  had  been  bungled. 

That  same  night  Manuel  sent  a  message  to  the  Isis, 
saying  that  he  was  sailing  the  following  morning  by 
the  Genoa  steamer  and  asking  that  the  yacht  meet  the 
ship  and  take  him  on  board.  Having  done  that  much, 
he  went  to  the  hotel  where  the  Countess  had  stopped  and 
told  the  clerk  that  he  had  news  of  importance  to  com- 
municate to  Madame  the  Countess,  and  that  he  wished 
to  learn  her  present  address.  The  clerk,  like  all  Puntal, 
was  ignorant  of  what  important  matters  had  just  missed 
happening,  but  he  had  instructions  from  this  lady  to 
assume  ignorance  as  to  her  destination.  Blanco,  how- 
ever, showed  the  seal  ring  which  she  had  said  would 


166  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

prove  a  passport  to  her  presence  and  which  Benton 
had  left  with  him.  He  was  promptly  informed  that 
she  had  taken  passage  for  Villefranche,  and  had  ordered 
her  mail  forwarded  there  in  care  of  the  steamship 
agency. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    AMBASSADOR    BECOMES    ADMIRAL 

TV/TORE  suggestive  of  a  stowaway  than  a  million- 
•*•'•*•  aire,  thought  Blanco  the  following  afternoon, 
when  he  had  come  over  the  side  of  the  Is'is  and  sought 
out  the  owner  of  the  yacht.  Benton  had  turned  hermit 
and  withdrawn  to  the  most  isolated  space  the  vessel 
provided.  It  was  really  not  a  deck  at  all  —  only  a 
space  between  engine-room  grating  and  tarpaulined  life- 
boats on  what  was  properly  the  cabin  roof.  Here,  re- 
moved from  the  burnished  and  ship-shape  perfection 
of  the  yacht's  appointment,  he  lay  carelessly  shaven 
and  more  carelessly  dressed. 

The  lazily  undulating  Mediterranean  stretched  un- 
broken save  for  the  yacht's  stack,  funnels  and  stan- 
chions, in  a  sight-wide  radius  of  blue.  Overhead  the 
sky  was  serene.  Here  and  there,  in  fitful  humors,  the 
sea  flowed  in  rifts  of  a  different  hue. 

The  sun  was  mellow  and  the  breeze  which  purred 

softly  in  the  cables  overhead  came  with  the  caressing 

breath  that  blows  off  the   orange  groves  of  Southern 

Spain.     Ahead  lay  all  the  invitation   of  the  south  of 

167 


168  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

France ;  of  the  Riviera's  white  cities  and  vivid  country- 
side ;  of  Monte  Carlo's  casinos  and  Italy's  villas.  Be- 
yond further  horizons,  waited  the  charm  of  Greece,  but 
the  man  lay  on  an  old  army  blanket,  clad  in  bagging 
flannels  and  a  blue  army  shirt  open  at  the  throat. 
His  arms  were  crossed  above  his  eyes,  and  he  was 
motionless,  except  that  the  fingers  which  gripped  his 
elbows  sometimes  clenched  themselves  and  the  bare 
throat  above  the  open  collar  occasionally  worked  spas- 
modically. 

Blanco  had  come  quietly,  and  his  canvas  shoes  had 
made  no  sound.  For  a  time  he  did  not  announce  him- 
self. He  was  not  sure  that  Benton  was  awake,  so  he 
dropped  noiselessly  to  the  deck  and  sat  with  his  hands 
clasped  about  his  knees,  his  eyes  moodily  measuring  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  glaringly  white  stanchions  above 
and  below  the  sky-line.  At  frequent  intervals  they 
swept  back  to  the  other  man,  who  still  lay  motionless. 
It  was  late  afternoon  and  the  smoke-stack  shadows 
pointed  off  in  attenuated  lines  to  the  bow  while  the 
sky,  off  behind  the  wake,  brightened  into  the  colors 
of  sunset.  Finally  Benton  rose.  The  unexpected 
sight  of  Blanco  brought  a  start  and  an  immediate  mask- 
ing of  his  face,  but  in  the  first  momentary  glimpse 
the  Andalusian  caught  a  haggard  distress  which  fright- 
ened him. 


THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL     169 

"  I  didn't  know  you  had  come,"  said  Benton  quietly. 
"  How  long  have  you  been  here?  " 

"  I  should  say  a  half-hour,  Senor,"  replied  Manuel, 
casually  rolling  a  cigarette. 

"  Why  didn't  you  rouse  me?  I'm  not  very  amus- 
ing, but  even  I  could  have  relieved  the  dullness  of  sit- 
ting there  like  a  marooned  man  on  a  derelict." 

"  Dullness  ?  "  inquired  the  toreador  with  a  lazy  lift 
of  the  brows.  "  It  is  ease,  Senor,  and  ease  is  desirable 
—  at  sea," 

The  American  sat  cross-legged  on  the  deck  and  held 
out  his  hand  for  a  cigarette.  When  he  asked  a  ques- 
tion he  spoke  in  matter-of-fact  tones.  He  even  laughed, 
and  the  Andalusian  chatted  on  in  kind,  but  secretly  and 
narrowly  he  was  watching  the  other,  and  when  he  had 
finished  his  scrutiny  he  told  himself  that  Benton  had 
been  indulging  in  the  dangerous  pastime  of  brood- 
ing. 

"  Tell  me  —  everything,"  urged  the  yacht-owner. 
"  What  are  the  revolutionists  doing  and  how  is  —  how 
are  things  ?  "  Carefully  he  avoided  directing  any  ques- 
tion to  the  point  on  which  his  eagerness  for  news  was 
poignant  hunger. 

When  Blanco  told  how  Louis  had  left  Galavia  just 
before  the  soldiers  reached  the  lodge,  Benton's  face 
darkened.  "  That  was  fatal  blundering,"  he  com- 


170  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

plained.  "  So  long  as  Delgado  is  at  large  the  Palace 
is  menaced.  If  they  had  taken  him,  and  held  him  under 
surveillance,  the  Cabinet  Noir  would  be  disarmed.  Now 
they  will  try  again." 

Blanco  nodded. 

"  There  is  no  charge  they  can  make  against  him," 
he  mused.  "  They  cannot  bring  him  back  because 
the  government  cannot  admit  its  peril.  Outwardly  his 
bill  of  health  is  clean.  Assuredly  when  they  let  him 
slip,  Senor,  they  committed  a  grave  error." 

Benton  rose  and  paced  the  deck  in  deep  reflection. 
At  last  he  halted  and  spread  his  hands  in  a  gesture 
half -despairing. 

"  My  God! "  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  The  anxiety 
will  drive  me  mad !  You  saw  their  methods.  An  entire 
cortege  was  to  be  blown  into  the  air  —  just  to  kill 
Karyl.  Next  time,  what  wiU  they  attempt?"  He 
broke  off  with  a  shudder. 

"  I  have  seen  the  Queen,"  said  Blanco  slowly. 

Benton  wheeled.  For  an  instant  his  face  lighted, 
then  he  leaned  forward.  He  said  nothing,  but  his 
whole  attitude  was  a  question. 

"  You  behold  in  me,  Sir  Manuel  Blanco,"  began 
the  Andalusian  grandly.  Then,  slipping  his  arm 
through  that  of  the  other  man,  he  began  leading  him 
around  the  deck.  When  he  had  finished  his  narrative, 
he  said :  "  I  begin  my  office  as  Ambassador  by  delivering 


THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL     171 

this  packet."  From  his  pocket  he  produced  the  paper- 
wrapped  rose.  "  I  was  instructed  to  give  it  to  you 
at  some  future  time.  Possibly,  Senor,  I  am  over- 
prompt.  Lawyers  and  diplomats  should  be  delib- 
erate." 

The  Mediterranean  day  had  died  slowly  from  east 
to  west  while  the  men  had  talked,  and  the  last  shred 
of  glowing  sky  was  darkening  into  the  sea  at  the  edge 
of  the  world  astern,  when  Benton  greedily  thrust  out 
his  hand  for  the  packet. 

"  Gracias,"  he  said  bluntly,  and  turning  away  went 
precipitously  to  his  cabin. 

After  dinner,  when  the  Captain  had  betaken  himself 
to  the  bridge  and  the  smoke  from  the  Spaniard's  ciga- 
rettes and  Benton's  pipe  had  begun  to  wreathe  clouds 
against  the  ceiling-beams,  Blanco  broached  his  diplo- 
macy. 

In  the  dulled  expressionlessness  of  the  face  opposite 
him  and  the  stoop  of  the  shoulders,  Manuel  read  a 
need  for  an  active  antidote  against  the  corrosive  poison 
of  despair. 

"  Where  are  we  going  now,  Senor?  " 

Benton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  '  Quien  sabe!  '  as  you  say  in  Spain.  We  are  simply 
cruising,  drifting,  keeping  out  of  sight  of  land." 

"  And  drifting  is  the  precise  thing,  Senor,  which  we 
must  not  do.  I  have  hitherto  done  without  question 


172  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

what  you  have  said.  Now  I  hold  a  new  dignity." 
There  was  a  momentary  flash  of  teeth  as  he  smiled. 
"  As  Ambassador,  I  make  a  request.  May  I  be  per- 
mitted to  take  entire  control  of  affairs  for  a  brief  time? 
Also,  will  you  for  a  few  days  obey  my  instructions, 
without  question  ?  " 

Benton  looked  across  the  table  at  the  dark  face  half- 
obscured  behind  a  blue  fog  of  cigarette  smoke.  After 
a  moment  he  smiled. 

"  Admiral,"  he  said,  "  issue  your  orders." 

"  You  will  instruct  the  Captain,"  said  Manuel 
promptly,  "  to  head  at  once  for  Yillef ranche.  There 
you,  Senor,  will  leave  the  yacht,  and  I  will  go  with  it 
to  Monte  Carlo.  I  wish  to  be  as  soon  as  possible  in 
the  casino  where  the  drone  of  the  croupier  and  the 
clink  of  outflowing  louis  d'or  constitute  the  national 
refrain." 

Benton's  eyes  narrowed  in  perplexity.  On  his  face 
was  written  curiosity,  but  he  had  agreed  to  ask  no 
questions.  He  unhesitatingly  put  his  finger  on  the 
electric  bell. 

"  Ask  the  Captain  to  come  here  as  soon  as  he  is  at 
leisure,"  he  directed  when  the  steward  had  responded  to 
the  call. 

"  Good,"  commended  Blanco.  Then  with  a  sorrowful 
shake  of  his  head  he  commiserated :  "  I  am  sorry  that 
you  are  to  be  denied  the  excitement  of  the  rouge  et  nolr 


THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL     173 

and  the  trente  et  quarente  of  the  gold  table,  Senor,  but 
if  the  Countess  Astaride  and  Louis  should  meet  there, 
the  lady  would  know  you.  I  fancy  that  she  will  not 
again  mistake  you  for  someone  else.  As  for  myself, 
neither  of  them  yet  knows  me." 

"Are  they  at  Monte  Carlo?"  Benton  sat  suddenly 
upright,  and  Blanco  had  the  first  reward  of  his  diplo- 
macy, as  he  noted  the  quickening  interest  in  the  ques- 
tioning eyes. 

"  I  am  only  guessing,  Senor.  If  the  guess  is  good, 
I  may  learn  something.  What  is  in  my  mind,  may 
fail.  If  you  are  willing  to  trust  me  I  would  rather 
not  reveal  it  now." 

"And  I?"  questioned  Benton.  "Have  I  any  part 
to  play  in  this,  or  do  you  go  it  alone  ?  " 

Blanco  leaned  forward. 

"  It  may  be  necessary  to  have  someone  near  enough 
to  the  Palace  in  Puntal  to  insure  immediate  action 
—  action  to  be  taken  on  the  instant.  .  .  .  You 
must  return  to  the  city,  Senor.  ...  It  will  be 
for  only  a  few  days.  The  Grand  Palace  Hotel  is  above 
the  town  in  large  gardens.  ...  If  you  choose  you 
can  remain  there  with  your  presence  absolutely  unknown, 
so  far  as  the  city  proper  is  concerned.  Also,  the 
Marconi  office  has  a  station  in  the  hotel  grounds.  With 
a  code  which  we  have  yet  to  arrange,  I  can  keep  in 
touch  with  you.  .  .  ." 


174  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  next  day  Benton  was  a  passenger  by  steamer 
from  Villefranche  to  Puntal. 

The  Grand  Palace  Hotel,  dominating  its  own  acres 
of  subtropical  gardens,  looks  down  on  the  city  as  one 
seated  on  an  eminence  commands  the  common  things 
at  his  feet.  Between  its  grounds  and  the  scalloped 
bay,  run  the  huddled  habitations  of  the  town's  water- 
front, with  its  delicately  tinted  walls  and  riotously 
colored  gardens  invading  every  crevice. 

Following  the  semicircle  of  the  bay,  the  eye  commands 
that  other  eminence  where  the  King's  Palace  shuts  it- 
self in  austerely  at  the  very  center  of  the  arc. 
Through  the  clustered,  tea-sipping  loungers  on  the 
galleries  and  terraces  Benton  made  his  way  several  days 
later,  wearing  the  studiously  affected  unconcern  of  the 
tourist;  an  unconcern  which  he  found  it  desperately 
difficult  to  assume  in  Puntal. 

Driven  by  a  growing  and  intense  desire  to  put  dis- 
tance between  himself  and  all  alien  humanity,  he  turned 
into  a  narrow,  steeply  climbing  street  which  ran  twist- 
ing between  toy-houses  and  vine-cumbered  garden- 
walls,  until  at  last  it  lost  its  right  to  be  called  a  street 
and  became  merely  a  narrow,  trail-like  path  up  the 
mountain-side.  The  wanderer  climbed  interminably. 
He  took  no  thought  of  destination  and  satisfied  him- 
self with  the  physical  exertion  of  the  laborious  going. 

His  heart  pounded  faster  as  he  attained  the  altitude 


THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL     175 

of  the  pine  woods  where  he  seemed  to  have  left  humanity 
behind  him.  Once  or  twice  he  saw  a  shy,  half-wild 
child  who  fled  from  its  task  of  gathering  fagots  at 
his  approach,  to  gaze  at  him  out  of  startled  eyes  from 
a  safe  distance. 

Occasionally  he  would  stop  to  look  down,  from  some 
coign  of  vantage,  at  cascading  threads  of  water  tum- 
bling into  the  gorge  below,  or  at  a  chalet-like  house 
perched  far  beneath  in  its  trim  patch  of  agriculture. 
Finally  he  stretched  himself  indolently  on  a  carpet  of 
pine  needles  at  the  brink  of  a  drop  to  the  valley.  Then, 
with  a  sense  of  recognition,  he  saw  the  tumbled-down 
gate  of  the  King's  driveway  below  him  to  the  left,  and 
his  face  became  set  and  miserable  as  memory  began 
its  work  of  tearing  open  wounds  not  yet  old. 

Suddenly  there  drifted  up  a  chorus  of  children's 
laughter.  He  sat  up  suddenly  and  looked  about,  but  no 
one  was  in  sight.  Again  he  heard  an  unmistakable 
peal  of  shrill,  childish  merriment,  seemingly  close  at 
hand.  He  lay  flat  and  looked  over  the  ledge,  hold- 
ing on  to  a  root  of  a  gnarled  pine  that  grew  far  out 
at  the  marge. 

Under  him,  not  more  than  twenty  yards  below,  on 
a  similar  natural  platform,  sat  a  circle  of  peasant  chil- 
dren, their  eyes  large  with  wonderment  and  interest. 
In  their  center,  also  seated  on  the  earth,  was  the 
Queen  of  Gala  via.  She  was  dressed  in  a  short  walking 


176  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

skirt  and  a  blue  jersey,  and  as  the  man  gripped  the 
pine  root  to  which  he  held,  and  gazed  over,  she  lifted 
an  outstretched  finger  of  a  gauntleted  hand  in  illus- 
tration of  some  particularly  wonderful  point  of  what 
was  palpably  a  particularly  wonderful  fairy  story.  A 
third  burst  of  delight  came  from  the  listening  and  re- 
sponsive auditors,  who  had  no  idea  by  whom  they  were 
being  entertained. 

The  peasants  of  Galavia  speak  Portuguese.  As  Ben- 
ton  shifted  his  position  so  that  he  could  eavesdrop 
without  being  discovered,  he  found  that  he  could  catch 
some  of  the  words. 

"  Tell  us  another  story  — "  piped  a  high  treble  voice, 
" —  a  story  about  the  beautiful  Princess  who  married 
the  King."  The  demand  was  seconded  by  an  immediate 
clamor  of  eager  voices. 

The  girl  rose  unsteadily  and  shook  her  head.  For 
a  moment  she  stood  looking  off  over  the  miles  of  sea 
with  her  hands  at  her  breast  and  her  eyes  clouded, 
oblivious  of  the  small  companions  of  her  truancy.  She 
stretched  out  both  strong  young  arms  toward  the  Medi- 
terranean. 

Then  she  heeded  the  children's  clamor  again  and, 
turning  to  them,  she  laughed. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  teasingly  answered,  and  the  man 
above  realized  for  the  first  time  that  Portuguese  is  a 
tongue  of  liquid  music.  "  These  are  fairy  stories  with- 


THE  AMBASSADOR  BECOMES  ADMIRAL     177 

out  Princesses.  These  are  perfectly  good  fairy  stories, 
you  know."  Then  with  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence, 
"  In  really-truly  life,  Princesses  are  not  much  good. 
Don't  any  of  you  ever  be  a  Princess  if  you  can  help 
it ! "  After  planting  this  seed  of  treasonable  ideas 
she  turned  away,  adding:  "No,  no,  no!  I've  run 
away  and  I  must  go  back.  To-morrow  we  will  have  a 
wonderful  story  —  but  no  more  to-day." 

Slowly  she  made  her  way  down  to  the  old  gate,  stop- 
ping twice  to  look  out  to  the  sea,  and  above  her, 
choking  off  the  shout  that  clamored  at  his  lips,  the  man 
sat  motionless  and  gave  no  intimation  of  his  presence. 

Finally  he  rose  and  made  his  way  unsteadily  back  to 
the  city.  He  walked  slowly  down  between  the  wine- 
shops, noisy  with  laughter,  to  the  road  along  the  bay. 
Immersed  in  reflection  and  forgetful  of  his  resolution  to 
keep  as  much  as  possible  out  of  sight,  he  went  openly 
and  conspicuously  along  the  street  that  overhangs  the 
water,  where  at  sunset  all  Puntal  promenades.  It  was 
only  when  a  detachment  of  soldiers  in  the  familiar 
opera-bouffe  uniform  went  clanking  by  to  change  the 
guard  at  the  Palace  gates  that  he  remembered  he  was 
to  have  remained  inconspicuous.  With  a  sense  of 
chagrin  for  his  indiscretion,  he  turned  into  a  side  street 
which  sloped  upward  toward  his  hotel.  This  street  was 
so  little  used  that  between  its  cobble  stones  tender  sprigs 
of  grass  made  the  way  as  green  as  a  turf  course. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BENTON    CALLS    ON    THE    KING 

THERE  were  several  things  to  harrow  Benton's 
thoughts  aside  from  the  ingenious  tortures  of 
memory.  Blanco  should  have  arrived  at  Monte  Carlo 
on  the  day  of  their  separation.  Benton  himself  had 
proceeded  slowly  to  Puntal  and  had  now  been  an  isolated 
guest  at  the  Grand  Palace  Hotel  for  two  days,  yet 
he  had  heard  nothing  from  Manuel.  Still  the  man  from 
Cadiz  had  not  been  idly  cruising.  The  Is  is  had  duly 
dropped  her  anchor  in  the  ultramarine  waters  where  the 
rock  of  Monaco  juts  out  like  a  beckoning  finger,  and 
Monte  Carlo  spreads  the  marble  display  of  its  rococo 
facades  at  the  feet  of  the  Maritime  Alps. 

That  night,  in  the  most  detailed  perfection  of  even- 
ing dress,  he  wandered  good-humoredly,  yet  aloof, 
through  the  crowds.  He  haunted  the  groups  that 
swarmed  about  the  busy  wheels  in  the  casino.  He 
mingled  with  the  diners  upon  the  terraces  of  the  prin- 
cipal hotels.  He  brushed  elbows  with  the  strollers 
along  the  promenade  and  about  the  Cercle  des  Etrangers, 
and  all  the  while  his  studiously  alert  eyes  wandered 
178 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         179 

with  seeming  vacancy  of  expression  over  the  faces  of 
the  men  and  women  whom  he  passed. 

Safe  in  the  surety  of  being  himself  unknown,  he 
trained  his  countenance  into  the  ennui  of  one  who  has 
no  object  beyond  killing  the  hour  and  contributing  his 
quota  to  the  income  of  the  syndicate. 

The  evening  was  wasted,  together  with  a  few  louts, 
and  the  next  morning  found  the  Spaniard  scrutiniz- 
ing every  face  along  the  Promenade  des  Anglais  at 
Nice.  Then  he  searched  Cannes  and  Mentone,  but  by 
evening  he  was  back  again  in  the  sacred  City  of  Black 
and  Red. 

As  he  disembarked  from  the  yacht's  launch  and  came 
up  the  white  stairs  to  the  landing-stage,  his  eyes  were 
still  indolently  wandering,  but  before  he  reached  the 
level  of  the  Boulevard  de  la  Condamine,  the  expression 
changed  with  the  suddenness  of  discovery  into  a  glint  al- 
most triumphant.  It  was  only  with  strong  effort  that  he 
banished  the  satisfied  light  from  his  pupils  and  forced 
them  to  wander  absently  again,  along  the  glitter  and 
color  of  the  palm-lined  promenade. 

For  Manuel  had  seen  a  slender,  well-groomed  figure 
leaning  on  the  coping  of  the  sea-wall  and  gazing  out 
with  obvious  amusement  on  the  life  of  the  harbor.  Al- 
though the  Spaniard  did  not  allow  himself  a  second 
glance,  he  knew  that  his  search  was  ended.  The  atten- 
tion of  the  man  above  was  dreamily  fixed  on  the  bay 


180  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

where  a  dozen  darting  motor-boats  cut  swift  courses 
hither  and  thither.  His  attitude  was  graceful.  His 
bearing  might  have  been  almost  noble  except  for  a  de- 
plorable lack  of  frankness  which  spoiled  otherwise  fine 
eyes,  and  a  self-indulgent  weakness  which  marred  the 
angle  of  the  chin. 

The  Bay  at  Monte  Carlo  is  a  haven  for  luxurious 
craft.  Now  the  Prince  of  Monaco's  yacht  lay  at  anchor 
and  several  others,  hardly  less  handsome,  rode  snugly 
offshore,  but  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  connoisseur  the 
tall  gentleman  disregarded  all  the  rest  and  let  his  admir- 
ing gaze  dwell  on  the  Isis. 

The  face  was  studiously  altered.  Where  there  had 
been  a  full  mustache  there  was  now  only  a  thinly 
clipped  line,  waxed  and  uptilting  in  needle  points.  It 
had  been  dark  brown.  Now  it  was  black.  The  hair 
formerly  brushed  straight  back  from  the  forehead  now 
showed  beneath  the  hat-band.  The  Van  Dyke  which 
had  masked  the  receding  tendency  of  the  chin  was 
shaven  away.  Evidently  the  gentleman  wished  to  pre- 
sent a  changed  appearance  to  the  world,  but  the  vi- 
sionary eyes  were  unmistakably  those  of  Louis,  the 
Dreamer,  and  in  lapses  of  thought  the  fingers  of 
the  right  hand  nervously  twisted  and  untwisted,  after 
the  manner  of  an  old  personal  trick. 

As  Blanco  came  up  the  stairs  he  brushed  clumsily 
against  the  stranger  and  paused  to  apologize. 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         181 

"  I  am  inexcusably  awkward,"  he  avowed  with  en- 
gaging contriteness. 

The  Duke  protested  that  it  was  not  worth  mention, 
and  added  with  a  smile,  "  I  noticed  that  you  came  from 
that  yacht.  I  think  she  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
little  vessels  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Thank  you,  Monsieur."  Blanco  was  apparently 
much  flattered.  "  She  is  American  built,  and  has  some 
appointments  which  I  have  not  seen  elsewhere."  Then 
smilingly,  but  in  hot  haste,  he  rushed  away. 

During  the  course  of  the  evening  the  Andalusian 
contrived  to  throw  himself  repeatedly  across  the  Duke's 
path.  On  each  occasion  he  appeared  to  be  in  great 
haste  and  under  the  necessity  of  immediate  departure, 
though  he  never  left  without  a  cordial  word  of  recogni- 
tion. He  played  his  game  so  adroitly  that  at  the  end 
of  the  evening  the  Duke  felt  as  though  he  and  the 
stranger  from  the  American-built  yacht  were  old  and 
pleasant  acquaintances. 

It  was  as  they  stood  watching  the  stiffer  gambling 
of  the  elect  in  the  upper  room  of  the  Casino,  after 
the  wheels  below  had  ceased  to  spin,  that  the  tall  gentle- 
man turned  to  Blanco. 

"  How  do  you  say  ?  Would  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a 
glass  of  wine  go  amiss?" 

Without  a  trace  of  eagerness,  the  Andalusian  assented 
and  a  few  minutes  later  he  found  himself  across  a 


182  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

cafe  table  at  the  Nouvel  Hotel  de  Paris;  listening  to 
Louis,  the  Dreamer's  soft  voice,  and  watching  the  slen- 
der fingers  which  nervously  toyed  with  a  Sevres  cup. 

"  She  is  extremely  beautiful  in  her  lines,"  Louis  was 
declaring.  "  I  am  fond  of  yachts  that  are  properly 
built.  I  am  planning  one  myself,  and  each  new  vessel 
holds  for  me  a  fresh  interest." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  The  Spaniard  was  delighted. 
"  Then  we  have  fallen  upon  a  common  enthusiasm.  I 
am  never  so  happy  as  when  talking  to  a  keen  yachts- 
man." Yet  so  long  as  the  conversation  threatened 
those  nautical  technicalities  in  which  he  was  utterly  de- 
ficient, he  managed  to  let  the  other  do  the  talking. 

Manuel  at  last  set  down  his  cup  and,  looking  up  with 
a  flash,  as  of  sudden  inspiration,  suggested:  "But 
doubtless  you  will  be  stopping  in  Monte  Carlo  a  day  or 
two?  Possibly  you  will  do  me  the  honor  of  inspecting 
the  boat?" 

The  other  protested  that  his  friend  was  too  good. 
He  regarded  himself  highly  honored.  He  would  be  most 
charmed.  But  apparently  the  idea  was  developing  and 
Blanco  was  conceiving  even  more  extended  notions  of 
hospitality. 

"  Stay !  "  he  suddenly  exclaimed.  "  Why  not  break- 
fast with  me,  on  board,  to-morrow  at  twelve?  The 
launch  will  be  at  the  landing  at  eleven  forty-five.  I 
could  take  you  cruising  for  a  few  knots,  and  let 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         183 

you   test  her  sailing  qualities,   returning   in   abundant 
time    for    dinner    and    the    amusements    of    the    even- 

ing." 

Louis  gave  the  matter  a  moment's  reflection,  then 
declared  that  the  programme  was  delightful.  He  would 
not  be  engaged  until  the  evening. 

Bknco  laughed  uproariously.  "  It  is  most  amus- 
ing," he  declared.  "  I  have  had  supper  with  you  —  you 
are  to  breakfast  with  me,  and  I  have  not  yet  told  you 
my  name !  "  He  was  searching  for  a  card-case,  which 
seemingly  he  had  misplaced.  "  I  cannot  find  a  card. 
No  matter,  my  name  is  Sir  Manuel  Blanco." 

The  Duke  smiled  as  he  rose  from  the  table  and  took 
up  hat  and  cane.  "  I  was  equally  forgetful,"  he  said. 
"  My  name  is  Monsieur  Breuillard." 

The  following  day  had  advanced  well  into  the  after- 
noon, and  Monsieur  Breuillard  had  punctuated  with 
graceful  compliment  each  point  of  excellence  in  the 
equipment  of  the  Isis,  when  Blanco  led  the  way  into 
the  small  smoking  saloon. 

"  Sailing  qualities  may  not  have  been  fairly  tested," 
admitted  Sir  Manuel,  "  since  the  sea  was  serene,  the 
sky  brilliant,  and  the  breeze  insufficient  to  ruffle  the 
water." 

"  The  more  charming,  Monsieur ! "  exclaimed  the 
guest,  whose  mood  after  a  pleasing  day  was  mellow  and 
complacent. 


184  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Blanco  waved  Monsieur  Breuillard  to  an  easy  chair 
and  pointed  out  cigars.  As  chance  would  have  it,  he 
stood  before  the  door,  which  he  had  just  closed. 

"  By  the  way  —  Your  Grace  — "  He  broke  off  ab- 
ruptly to  mark  the  effect  of  the  title  on  the  other  man. 
Evidently  he  found  it  highly  pleasing  for  he  smiled  as 
the  Dreamer  winced  and  came  violently  to  his  feet,  pale 
and  rigid,  but  as  yet  too  astounded  for  speech. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,  did  I,"  went  on  the  Spaniard, 
"  that  I  have  been  Sir  Manuel  Blanco  only  a  few  days, 
and  that  the  title  was  conferred  on  me  by  your  royal 
kinsman,  Karyl  of  Galavia,  for  a  trifling  service  in 
confounding  his  enemies?  Before  that  I  was  a  matador 
in  Andalusia." 

Delgado  stood  petrified,  his  features  livid  and  his 
eyes  blazing  with  rage.  An  instinct  warned  him  that 
to  surrender  to  passion  would  be  only  to  trap  himself 
more  deeply.  The  man  blocking  the  door  filled  its 
breadth  with  his  strong  shoulders.  Louis  turned  his 
head  and  his  eyes  caught  through  the  open  porthole  a 
glimpse  of  the  receding  shore-line  of  the  Riviera, 
Blanco  followed  the  glance  and  smiled. 

"  We  shall  be  losing  shore  in  a  short  time,"  he 
calmly  announced.  "  May  I  have  the  honor  of  show- 
ing Your  Grace  to  your  stateroom?  " 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         185 

On  the  next  evening  Benton  emerged  from  his  rooms 
at  the  Grand  Palace  Hotel  in  Puntal,  and  threading 
his  way  through  the  loungers  on  the  galleries,  sought 
out  a  remote  corner  of  the  garden,  where,  under  a 
blossom-freighted  vine,  he  could  hear  the  surge  of  the 
sea,  and,  in  a  tempered  softness,  the  Viennese  waltz 
of  the  hotel  band.  Under  him  the  harbor  mirrored 
lights  along  the  shore  and  those  of  ships  at  anchor. 
At  a  distance  the  windows  of  the  Palace  could  be  seen. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  — " 

Benton  recognized  the  coldly  modulated  voice  be- 
fore he  glanced  up  at  the  cloaked  figure. 

"  Colonel  Von  Ritz,"  he  said,  "  I  am  honored." 

Von  Ritz  bowed. 

"  His  Majesty  requests  that  you  will  do  him  the  honor 
of  coming  to  the  Palace  with  me  —  now." 

Despite  the  form  of  request  in  which  the  summons 
was  couched,  Von  Ritz  clothed  it  in  a  coldness  that 
brought  to  Benton's  mind  the  implacable  politeness  of1 
an  arrest.  At  the  hint  he  stiffened. 

"  If  His  Majesty  requests  my  presence,"  he  replied 
with  some  shortness,  "  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  present 
myself  at  once.  If  — "  he  paused  and  looked  at 
the  stiffly  erect  figure  before  him,  "  if  the  peremptory 
tone  you  assume  is  a  part  of  your  instruction,  I  must 
remind  you  that  I  am  an  American  citizen,  entirely 


186  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

free  to  accept  or  decline  invitations  —  even  when  they 
come  from  the  Palace." 

Von  Ritz  replied  with  unruffled  gravity. 

"  If  it  will  add  to  your  sense  of  security,  Mr.  Benton, 
I  shall  be  pleased  to  drive  you  to  your  Legation  and 
to  have  your  government's  representative  accompany 
us." 

Benton  flushed.  "  I  was  not  speaking  from  any 
sense  of  personal  insecurity,"  he  explained.  "  But  I 
wished  you  to  understand  the  manner  in  which  I  prefer 
to  be  approached." 

The  Colonel  waited  with  perfect  courtesy  for  the 
American  to  finish,  then  he  went  on  in  the  same  dis- 
tantly polite  tone  and  manner.  "  I  had  not  quite 
finished  delivering  my  message  when  you  —  when  you 
began  to  speak.  His  Majesty  instructs  me  to  say  that 
if  you  will  accompany  me  to  the  Palace  he  will  re- 
gard it  as  a  courtesy  and  will  be  grateful.  He  com- 
mands me  to  add  that  he  does  not  send  this  message 
officially  or  as  coming  from  the  Court.  It  is  simply 
that  the  Count  Pagratide  wishes  to  see  you  and  that  it 
is  obviously  impossible  for  His  Majesty  —  for  the 
Count  Pagratide  —  to  call  on  you  here." 

Benton  was  irritated  with  himself  for  his  display  of 
temper,  and  more  irritated  with  Von  Ritz  for  his  calm 
superiority  of  manner.  His  murmured  apology  was 
offered  with  no  very  good  grace  as  he  turned  to  follow 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         187 

the  other's  lead.  Opposite  the  hotel  entrance  he 
stopped. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  awaiting  news  from 
Manuel  Blanco.  He  may  send  a  message  or  come  him- 
self, and  if  so  it  may  be  vital  for  him  to  establish  in- 
stant communication  with  me." 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  Von  Ritz.  "  I  would  suggest 
that  you  introduce  my  aide,  who  may  be  trusted,  at 
the  hotel  and  that  he  be  instructed  to  bring  you  any 
message.  By  that  means,  Senor  Blanco,  or  his  news, 
can  follow  you  directly  to  the  Palace  —  and  it  does 
not  become  necessary  to  take  others  into  your  confi- 
dence." 

The  same  young  Captain  who  had  summoned  Blanco 
in  the  Casino  was  left  to  act  as  messenger  and  Benton, 
following  the  officer  through  a  side  gate  and  into  a 
side  street,  stepped  into  a  closed  carriage. 

"  I  had  not  supposed  that  the  Palace  knew  of  my 
presence  in  Puntal,"  commented  the  American  as  he 
took  his  seat  opposite  the  Colonel  of  Cavalry. 

"  You  were  seen  on  the  promenade.  It  was  reported 
from  several  sources,"  Von  Ritz  made  answer.  "  Also," 
he  added  as  an  afterthought,  "  we  knew  of  your  ar- 
rival two  hours  after  you  reached  Puntal.  You  reg- 
istered at  the  hotel  under  your  own  name." 

"  Does  the  Queen  also  know  of  my  presence?  "  asked 
Benton. 


188  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  No,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  drive  conversation  died. 
The  two  men  sat  mutely  opposite  each  other  as  the 
carriage  jolted  over  the  cobble-stoned  streets,  until  the 
driver  turned  into  the  castle  gates. 

Then  Von  Ritz  again  leaned  forward. 

"  Mr.  Benton,"  he  explained,  "  it  happens  that  this 
evening  a  ball  is  being  given  at  the  Palace  for  the 
members  of  the  Diplomatic  Corps.  His  Majesty,  sup- 
posing that  you  would  desire  a  quiet  reception,  in- 
structed me  to  take  you  to  the  gardens  of  his  private 
suite  where  he  will  shortly  j  oin  you ;  unless,"  added 
Von  Ritz  courteously,  "  you  prefer  the  Throne-room 
and  dancing  sdlles?  " 

Benton's   reply   was  prompt. 

"I  believe  I  am  to  see  the  Count  Pagratide,"  he 
answered.  "  I  am  grateful  to  the  Count  for  arrang- 
ing that  I  might  be  secluded." 

Blanco  had  gone  into  some  detail  in  describing  the 
chamber  where  he  had  met  the  King,  and  later  the 
Queen.  Benton  now  recognized  the  place  to  which  he 
was  conducted,  from  that  description.  As  before,  the 
room  was  empty  and  the  portieres  of  the  wide  windows 
were  partly  drawn.  Through  the  opening  he  could 
see  the  small  area  perching  on  a  space  redeemed  from 
the  solid  rock.  Dark  masses  against  the  sky  marked 
the  palms  of  the  garden,  and  through  the  window 


BENTON  CALLS  ON  THE  KING         189 

drifted  the  splashing  of  a  fountain  mingled  with  the 
distant  strains  of  the  same  Viennese  waltz  that  the 
hotel  band  had  been  playing.  That  year  you  might 
have  heard  it  from  the  Golden  Gate  to  Suez  and  back 
again  from  Suez  to  the  Golden  Gate. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN    WHICH    THE    SPHINX    BREAKS    SILENCE 

EFT  alone,  Benton  spent  ten  minutes  in  the  room, 
•*— *  then  passed  through  the  window  to  the  balcony 
and  went  down  into  the  miniature  garden.  His  face 
was  hot  and  his  pulses  heightened.  The  garden  was 
gratefully  cool  and  quiet. 

From  the  window,  through  which  he  had  come,  a 
broad  shaft  of  tempered  luminance  fell  across  the  foun- 
tain and  laid  a  zone  of  soft  light  athwart  the  low  stone 
benches  surrounding  it.  Then  it  caught,  and  faintly 
edged  with  its  glow,  the  granite  balustrade  at  the  shoul- 
der of  the  cliff.  Elsewhere  the  little  garden  was  en- 
veloped in  the  velvet  blackness  of  the  night,  against 
which  the  points  of  town  and  harbor  lights,  far  below, 
were  splinters  of  emerald  and  ruby.  The  moon  would 
not  rise  until  late. 

The  American  strolled  over  to  the  shaded  margin 
which  was  unspoiled  by  the  light.  He  brushed  back  the 
hair  from  his  forehead  and  let  the  sea  breeze  play  on 
his  face. 

Finally  a  light  sound  behind  him  called  his  atten- 
190 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        191 

tion  inward.  The  King  and  Von  Ritz  stood  together 
in  the  doorway.  Both  were  in  dress  uniform.  Karyl, 
even  at  the  side  of  the  soldierly  Von  Ritz,  was  strik- 
ing in  the  white  and  silver  of  Galavia's  commanding 
general.  Across  his  breast  glinted  the  decorations  of 
all  the  orders  to  which  Royalty  entitled  him. 

The  King,  with  a  deep  breath  not  unlike  a  sigh, 
came  forward  to  the  fountain.  There  he  halted  with 
one  booted  foot  on  the  margin  of  the  basin  and  his 
white-gauntleted  hands  clasped  at  his  back.  He  had 
not  yet  seen  Benton,  who  now  stepped  out  of  the  shadow 
to  present  himself.  As  he  came  into  view  Karyl  raised 
his  eyes  and  nodded  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  Benton,"  he  said,  "  so  you  came !     Thank  you." 

The  American  bowed.  He  wished  to  observe  every 
proper  amenity  of  Court  etiquette.  He  was  still 
chagrined  by  the  memory  of  his  rudeness  to  Von  Ritz, 
yet  he  was  determined  that  if  Karyl  had  sent  for  him 
as  the  Count  Pagratide,  he  must  receive  him  on  equal 
terms  and  without  ceremony. 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied.  Then  with  a  short  laugh 
he  added :  "  I  have  never  before  been  received  by  a 
crowned  head.  If  my  etiquette  proves  faulty,  you  must 
score  it  against  my  ignorance  —  not  my  intention." 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  said  Karyl  slowly,  as  the  eyes 
of  the  two  men  met  in  full  directness,  "  and  you  were 
good  enough  to  come.  I  am  a  crowned  head  —  yes  — 


192  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

that  is  my  damned  ill-fortune.  Let  us,  for  God's  sake, 
in  so  far  as  we  may,  forget  that!  Benton,  back  there 
— "  his  voice  suddenly  rose  and  took  on  a  passionate 
tremor  as  he  lifted  one  gauntleted  hand  in  a  sweep  to- 
ward the  west  — "  back  there  in  your  country,  where 
you  were  a  grandee  of  finance  and  I  an  impecunious 
foreigner,  there  was  no  ceremony  between  us.  If  we 
can  forget  this  livery  " —  Karyl  savagely  struck  his 
breast  — "  if  you  will  try  to  forget  that  you  are  look- 
ing at  a  toy  King,  fancifully  trimmed  from  head  to 
heel  in  braid  and  medals  —  then  perhaps  we  can  talk !  " 

"  Your  Majesty — "  demurred  Von  Ritz  in  a  tone  of 
deep  protest. 

The  King  swept  his  arm  back  as  one  who  brushes 
an  unimportant  intruder  into  the  background. 

"  And  we  must  talk,"  went  on  Karyl  vehemently, 
"  as  two  men,  not  as  one  man  and  a  puppet." 

The  American  stood  looking  on  at  the  violence  of 
the  King's  outburst  with  a  sense  of  deep  sympathy. 
Again  the  Colonel  stepped  forward  with  an  interposed 
objection. 

"  If  I  may  suggest  — "  he  began  in  an  emotionless 
inflection  which  fell  in  startling  contrast  with  the  sur- 
charged vehemence  of  the  other.  Then  he  halted  in 
the  midst  of  his  sentence  as  Karyl  wheeled  passionately 
to  face  him. 

"  My  God,  Colonel !  "  cried  the  King.     "  There  is  not 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        193 

a  debt  of  gratitude  in  life  that  I  do  not  owe  to  you 
—  I  and  my  house !  I  am  crushed  under  my  obliga- 
tions to  you.  You  have  been  our  strength,  our  one 
loyal  support,  and  yet  there  are  times  when  you  madden 
me !  "  The  officer  stood  waiting,  respectful,  impersonal, 
until  the  flood  of  words  should  subside,  but  for  a  while 
Karyl  swept  agitatedly  on. 

"  You  wear  a  sword,  Von  Ritz,  which  any  monarch  in 
Europe  would  hire  at  your  own  price.  Any  govern- 
ment would  let  you  name  what  titles  and  honors  you 
wished  in  payment — " 

"Your  Majesty!" 

"  Forgive  me,  I  know  your  sword  is  not  for  sale. 
I  mean  no  such  intimation.  I  mean  only  that  it  has 
a  value.  I  mean  you  are  a  man,  and  the  game  to  you 
is  the  large  one  of  statecraft.  It  is  really  you  who 
rule  this  Kingdom.  Ah,  yes,  you  remonstrate,  but  I 
tell  you  it  is  true,  and  the  damnable  shame  is  that  it 
is  not  a  Kingdom  worthy  of  your  genius !  You,  Von 
Ritz,  are  the  engine,  the  motive  force  —  but  I  —  in 
God's  holy  name,  what  am  I  ? " 

He  raised  his  hands  questioningly,  appealingly. 

"  You,"  replied  the  older  soldier  calmly,  "  are  the 
King." 

"  Yes,"  Karyl  caught  up  the  words  almost  before 
they  had  fallen  from  the  lips  of  the  other.  "Yes, 
I  am  the  King.  I  am  the  miserable,  gilded  figure- 


194  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

head  out  on  the  prow,  which  serves  no  end  and  no 
purpose.  I  am  the  ornamental  symbol  of  a  system 
which  the  world  is  discarding!  I  am  a  medieval  lay 
figure  upon  which  to  hang  these  tinsel  decorations,  these 
ribbons!" 

"  Your  Majesty  is  excited." 

"  No,  by  God,  I  am  only  heartbroken  —  and  I  am 
through ! "  The  King's  hands  dropped  at  his  sides. 
The  passion  died  out  of  his  voice  and  eyes,  leaving 
them  those  of  a  man  who  is  very  tired.  For  a  mo- 
ment there  was  silence.  It  was  broken  by  the  Ameri- 
can. 

"  Pagratide,"  he  asked,  "  why  did  you  send  for  me?  " 

The  King  stood  rigid  with  the  illuminating  shaft 
from  the  door  touching  into  high-lights  the  polish  of 
his  boots  and  the  burnish  of  his  accouterments.  Finally 
he  turned  and  in  a  voice  now  deadly  quiet  countered 
with  another  question. 

"  Benton,  why  did  you  save  me  ?  " 

The  American  answered  with  quiet  candor. 

"  I  went  into  it,"  he  said,  "  because  I  feared  the 
danger  might  threaten  Cara.  Once  in,  only  a  murderer 
could  have  turned  back." 

"  So  I  thought."  Karyl  nodded  his  head,  then  he 
turned  and  paced  restively  up  and  down  the  path  be- 
tween the  fountain  and  the  balcony.  At  last  he  halted 
fronting  the  American. 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        195 

"  I  wish  to  God,  Benton,  you  had  let  that  traitor 
Lapas  and  his  constituents  touch  their  damned  button. 
I  wish  to  God  you  had  let  them  lift  me,  amid  the  stones 
of  do  Freres,  into  eternity !  But  that  wish  is  unchari- 
table to  Von  Ritz  and  the  others  who  must  have  gone 
with  me."  The  King  broke  off  with  a  short  laugh. 
"  After  all,"  he  added,  "  of  course,  as  you  say,  you 
couldn't  do  it." 

Benton  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  I  couldn't 
do  it." 

Again  Karyl  paced  back  and  forth,  and  again  he 
stopped,  facing  the  American. 

"  Benton,  it  is  hard  for  two  men  to  talk  in  this  fash- 
ion. Perhaps  no  two  other  men  ever  did.  I  find  my- 
self a  jailer  to  the  woman  I  love  —  Oh,  yes,  I  am  also 
imprisoned  by  Royalty  but  that  does  not  alter  matters." 
The  voice  shook.  The  gauntleted  hands  were  tightly 
gripped,  but  the  speaker  went  steadily  on.  "  And  you 
love  her!" 

For  an  instant  Benton  looked  at  the  other,  hesitant. 
Then  realizing  the  unquestionable  sincerity  with  which 
the  King  spoke,  he  answered  with  equal  frankness. 

"  Pagratide  —  over  there  —  I  thought  I  could  enter 
Paradise.  I  did  look  into  Paradise.  Then  I  had  to 
set  my  face  back  again  to  the  desert  —  and  in  the  desert 
one  has  only  memory  and  hunger  and  thirst." 

"  Yours  is  hunger  and  thirst  —  yes !  "  exclaimed  the 


196  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

King  of  Galavia.  "  But  mine  is  the  hunger  and  thirst 
of  Tantalus." 

There  was  a  low  pained  exclamation  from  the  bal- 
cony and  both  men  wheeled  in  recognition  of  the  voice 
and  the  shadow  that  divided  the  band  of  light  in  the 
doorway. 

The  Queen  stood  on  the  low  sill  and  though  her  head 
and  figure  were  only  sketched  in  shade  against  the 
tempered  luminance  at  her  back  her  exclamation  told 
them  that  she  had  heard.  She  stood  in  the  unbroken 
sweep  of  her  Court  gown.  Her  slim  hands  gripped  the 
ermine  which  fell  from  her  shoulders  to  the  floor  and 
slowly  crushed  it  between  clenched  fingers.  About  her 
head  the  light  touched  her  hair  into  a  soft  nimbus. 

Karyl  stepped  impetuously  forward  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  lead  her  into  the  garden.  Benton,  who  had  in- 
voluntarily started  toward  the  balcony  at  the  first  sight 
of  her,  caught  his  lip  in  his  teeth  and  halted  where  he 
stood. 

The  girl  remained  for  a  moment,  astonished  at  the 
sight  of  the  two  men,  incredulous  of  what  she  had  heard. 

She  had  slipped  away  for  a  moment  of  respite  from 
the  fatiguing  requirements  of  the  ball-room.  She  had 
come  here  because  she  had  felt  sure  that  here  she  could 
be  alone.  She  had  come,  driven  by  the  prompting  of 
her  heart,  to  look  out  to  the  Mediterranean  and  wonder 
where,  between  its  gates  at  Gibraltar  and  Suez,  Benton 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        197 

might  at  that  moment  be.  And  from  the  balcony  she 
had  seen  him  In  the  garden  and  had  heard  a  part  of 
this  talk  before  the  spell  of  her  astounded  muteness 
broke  into  exclamation. 

"  You  heard  what  we  were  saying."  Karyl  spoke 
gently,  deferentially.  "  And  it  seemed  to  you  incredible 
that  we  should  be  confidential  on  such  a  subject.  It 
would  be  so,  except  that  we  are  both  seeking  the  same 
end  —  your  service  — "  he  paused,  then  added  miser- 
ably — "  and  your  happiness." 

She  listened  in  wonderment  as  she  held  out  her  hand 
to  Benton  and  watched  trance-like  his  lowered  head  as 
he  bent  his  lips  to  her  fingers. 

"  Cara !  "  Karyl  had  stepped  back  and  was  leaning 
over,  his  elbows  resting  on  the  stone  back  of  one  of  the 
low  benches.  His  fingers  tightly  grasped  the  carved 
ornaments  at  its  top.  His  words  were  carefully  chosen 
and  measuredly  spoken.  He  knew  that  if  he  permitted 
one  expression  to  escape  him  unguardedly,  with  it  would 
slip  away  the  command  by  which  he  was  curbing  muti- 
nous emotions. 

"  Cara,  I  happened  to  be  born  a  Prince,  who  should 
one  day  develop  into  a  King.  It  chanced  that  Nature 
had  a  sense  of  humor  —  so  Nature  paid  me  a  droll  com- 
pliment. She  gave  me  a  futile  ambition  to  be  a  man  — 
me,  whom  she  had  decided  was  to  be  only  a  King ! " 

The  group  stood  silent  and  attentive  in  a  strained 


198  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

tableau,  except  for  Von  Ritz,  who  paced  back  and  forth 
just  beyond  the  fountain,  as  though  respectfully  repudi- 
ating the  whole  unseemly  episode. 

"  Then  I  fell  in  love  with  you,"  went  on  the  King  of 
Galavia.  "  You  married  me  —  because  State  reasons 
demanded  it.  I  could  not  win  your  love  —  he  did !  " 
He  turned  toward  Benton,  and  his  voice,  though  it  held 
its  slow  control,  was  bitter. 

"  Benton,  do  you  fancy  this  puny  game  amuses  me? 
Do  I  not  know  that  you  could  buy  a  principality  like 
this  for  a  souvenir  of  Europe  if  it  happened  to  please 
you?  The  one  time  I  have  been  allowed  to  feel  a  man 
was  in  your  country,  where  we  met  as  equal  rivals. 
.  .  .  No,  not  equal  even  then,  because  you  were  the 
winner,  I  the  loser." 

"  Karyl,"  the  Queen  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  can  give 
you  loyalty,  admiration,  respect  and  my  life  to  use  as 
you  see  fit  to  use  it.  I  give  as  freely  as  I  can.  My 
love  I  do  not  refuse  —  it  is  just  .  .  .  just  that  it 
is  not  mine  to  give."  She  spoke  with  unutterable  weari- 
ness. "  I  seem  to  bring  only  sorrow  to  those  who  love 
me." 

"  You  can  give  me  all  but  love,"  Karyl  repeated  very 
softly,  leaning  forward  toward  her,  "  and  love  is  all 
there  is!  Without  it  I  take  all  else  you  give  me  as  a 
thief  takes,  without  right.  If  being  a  King  means 
being  your  jailer,  then  I  am  done  with  being  a  King! " 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        199 

"  Your  Majesty,"  cut  in  Von  Ritz  sharply,  "  it  is 
time  to  terminate  this  talk.  It  has  no  end.  It  is  aim- 
less argument  which  comes  only  back  to  the  starting 
point." 

The  King  wheeled  and  met  the  eyes  of  his  adviser. 
The  studied  self-control  he  had  maintained  since  Cara's 
arrival  slipped  from  him  and  his  voice  broke  out  ex- 
plosively. 

"  It  has  an  end ! "  he  cried.  "  I  will  show  you  the 
end.  If  I  cannot  build  empire  I  can  do  something  else. 
I  can  throw  this  damnable  little  Kingdom  down  into  the 
chaos  it  deserves !  .  .  .  I  can  abdicate  to  my  cousin, 
Louis  Delgado,  who  wants  the  throne  I  don't  wantl 

.  I  can  stamp  on  this  tinseled  trumpery. 
I  can  break  jail!"  He  turned  with  an  impassioned 
out-sweeping  of  his  hands.  Coming  swiftly  from  be- 
hind the  bench,  he  halted  tensely  before  Benton  and 
leaned  defiantly  forward.  "  Then  I  can  free  her  —  and 
by  God  I  shall  fight  you  for  her  on  equal  terms,  inch 
by  inch,  not  holding  her  in  duress,  but  fighting  for  her 
free  consent.  She  has  been  trapped  by  Fate  into 
marrying  me  and  at  heart  she  rebels.  I  shall  set  her 
free  and  then  by  God  I  will  win  her  back  !  " 

Von  Ritz  had  stood  by  as  the  King  rushed  on  in 
climax  after  climax  of  heated  words.  Now  he  took  one 
swift  stride  forward.  From  his  quiet  face  had  fallen 
every  trace  of  impassiveness.  When  he  spoke  his  voice 


200  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

trembled  with  the  irresistible  eloquence  of  power  and 
fire. 

"  My  God,  boy !  "  He  seized  Karyl  by  his  shoulders 
and  wheeled  him  so  that  they  stood  face  to  face.  There 
was  in  his  manner  nothing  of  deference,  nothing  of  the 
subordinate.  Now  he  stood  transformed,  the  man  of 
action ;  the  dominant,  compelling  force  before  whom 
littler  men  must  wither.  This  was  no  longer  Von  Ritz 
the  emotionless.  It  was  Von  Ritz  the  King-maker, 
burning  with  vitalizing  passion. 

"  My  God,  boy,  are  you  mad?  Do  you  think  other 
men  have  never  loved  and  sacrificed  themselves  for  duty 

—  kept  unuttered,  locked  in  their  hearts,  things  they 
were  hungry  to  say?     .     .     .     Do  you  think  that  your 
hard  task  of  Kingship  is  yours  to  play  with  —  to  de- 
sert?    .     .     .     Why,  boy,  I've  taught  you  your  man- 
ual of  arms,  I've  drilled  you,  trained  you,  watched  you 
grow  from  childhood.     My  heart  has  beaten  with  joy 
because  you  were  free  of  every  degenerate  trace  that  has 
marked  and  scarred  Europe's  cancerous  Royalty!     I've 
seen  you  come  clean-hearted,  straight-minded  into  man- 
hood ;  prepared  you  to  show  the  world  what  a  Kingdom 
can  be  with  a  clean  King  —  a  strong  King !     I've  fitted 
you  to  bear  a  burden  which  only  a  man  could  bear  —  to 
remind  the  world  that  '  King '  means  the  Man  Who  Can 

—  and  I  thought  you  could  do  it ! "     He  paused  only 
to  draw  a  long  breath,  then  hastened  on  again.     "  Yes, 


THE  SPHINX  BREAKS  SILENCE        201 

your  task  is  thankless.  Your  Principality  is  small,  but 
it  is  a  keystone  in  Europe's  arch.  It  is  such  Prince- 
lings as  you  who  must  send  clean  blood  down  to  the 
thrones  of  to-morrow.  ...  Is  that  not  enough? 
.  Have  I  built  a  King,  day  by  day,  year  by 
year,  idea  by  idea,  only  to  see  him  wither  and  crumple 
under  the  first  blast?  Go  on  with  your  task,  in  God's 
name!  Probably  they  will  murder  you  .  .  .  as- 
sassination may  at  the  end  be  your  reward,  but  only  the 
coward  fears  the  outcome!  For  God's  sake,  Karyl, 
don't  desert  me  under  fire !  " 

He  paused  with  a  gesture  eloquent  of  appeal.  When 
next  he  spoke  his  voice  was  slow,  deliberate. 

"And  the  other  picture!  The  cafe  tables  of  Paris 
are  crowded  with  Royalty  that  has  been ;  with  the  miser- 
able children  of  conquered  and  abdicated  Kings !  " 

The  King  dropped  exhaustedly  to  the  bench,  his  fore- 
arms on  his  knees,  his  gloved  fingers  hanging  limp. 
After  a  moment  he  rose  again  and  went  to  Cara. 

"  I  want  to  fight  for  you,"  he  said  simply.  "  I  want 
to  free  you  first  —  then  fight  for  you." 

"  Karyl,"  she  answered  gently,  "  if  you  do  this,  you 
will  enslave  my  soul,  and  my  imprisonment  will  be  only 
harder.  You  will  make  me  a  wrecker  of  governments 
—  a  traitor  to  my  duty." 

The  King  turned  and  looked  out  to  sea. 

"  I  must  think,"  he  said  in  a  tired  voice.     "  Perhaps 


202  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

it  is  only  a  matter  of  time.  Delgado  is  free.  Per- 
haps I  shall  not  have  to  present  him  with  my  throne. 
Conceivably  he  may  come  and  take  it." 

Von  Ritz  approached  again  and  took  Karyl's  hand. 
To  him  a  King  was,  at  last  analysis,  only  the  best 
product  of  the  King-maker's  craft.  He  was  a  King- 
maker —  before  him  stood  a  tired  boy  whom  he  loved. 

"  You  will  fight,"  he  said,  "  and  you  will  fight  with 
hell's  fury.  The  first  step  will  be  to  recapture  this 
Pretender.  With  him  in  hand  — " 

"  Which  is  in  itself  impossible,"  retorted  Karyl. 

At  the  window  appeared  the  young  Captain  who  had 
been  left  at  the  hotel.  His  hand  was  at  his  forehead 
in  salute:  Von  Ritz  went  to  meet  him  and  in  a  moment 
returned  for  Benton.  Together  the  two  men  went  out. 
Five  minutes  later  they  had  come  again  into  the  garden. 
With  them  came  Manuel  Blanco. 

The  bull  fighter  paused  to  bow  low  to  the  Queen,  then 
to  the  King.  At  last  he  spoke  with  some  diffidence. 

"  I  have  taken  the  very  great  liberty,"  he  said,  "  of 
making  the  Duke  Louis  Delgado  an  enforced  guest  on 
the  yacht  —  where  he  awaits  Your  Majesty's  pleasure." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL 


the  Duke  allowed  himself  to  be  kid- 
naped,  he  committed  an  error  so  grave  that 
it  can  hardly  be  —  overestimated."  The  speaker  used 
the  last  word  as  an  afterthought.  His  first  inclination 
was  to  say,  forgiven. 

Monsieur  Jusseret  sat  upright  in  the  brougham, 
scorning  the  supporting  cushions  at  his  back.  His 
small,  shrewd  eyes  frowned  his  deep  disapproval  over 
the  roofs  of  Algiers  outspread  below  him.  He  scowled 
on  the  gaudy  and  tatterdemalion  color  of  the  native 
city.  He  scowled  on  the  smart  brilliancy  of  the  French 
quarter  basking  along  the  Place  du  Government  and  the 
Boulevard  de  la  Republique. 

The  Countess  Astaride  leaned  back  and  smiled  from 
the  depths  of  the  cushions. 

"  It  is  usually  a  mistake  to  be  made  a  prisoner,"  she 
smiled. 

"  But  such  a  foolish  mistake,"  quarreled  Jusseret. 
"  To  permit  oneself  to  be  lured  into  so  palpable  a  trap. 
It  is  most  absurd." 


204  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  Now  that  it  is  done,"  inquired  the  woman,  "  is  it 
not  almost  as  absurd  to  waste  time  deploring  the  spilled 
milk?  We  must  find  a  way  to  set  him  free." 

"  I  have  done  all  that  could  be  done.  I  have  sta- 
tioned men  whom  I  can  trust  throughout  Puntal  and 
Galavia.  They  are  men  Karyl  likewise  thinks  he  can 
trust.  The  distinction  is  that  I  know  —  where  he 
merely  thinks." 

"  And  these  men  —  what  have  they  done  ?  "  The 
Countess  laid  one  gloved  hand  eagerly  on  the  French- 
man's coat-sleeve. 

"  These  men  have  gradually  and  quietly  reorganized 
the  army,  the  bureaucracy,  the  very  palace  Guard. 
We  have  undermined  the  government's  power,  until 
when  the  word  is  passed  to  strike  the  blow,  a  honey- 
combed system  will  crumble  under  its  own  weight. 
When  Karyl  calls  on  his  troops,  not  one  man  will  re- 
spond. Well  — "  Jusseret  smiled  dryly  — "  perhaps  I 
overstate  the  case.  Possibly  one  man  will.  I  think  we 
will  hardly  convert  Von  Ritz." 

"  Ah,  that  is  good  news,  Monsieur."  The  Countess 
breathed  the  words  with  a  tremor  of  enthusiasm. 

"  It  is,  however,  all  useless,  Madame  —  since  His 
Grace  is  unavailable.  In  captivity  he  is  absolutely 
valueless." 

"  In  captivity  he  has  a  stronger  claim  upon  our  loy- 
alty than  in  power !  " 


THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      205 

The  dark-room  diplomat  regarded  her  with  a  disap- 
pointed smile. 

"  For  a  clever  woman,  Comptesse,  who  has  heretofore 
played  the  game  so  brilliantly,  you  have  grown  singu- 
larly unobservant.  I  am  not  a  crusader,  liberating  cap- 
tive Christian  knights.  I  am  France's  servant,  playing 
a  somewhat  guileful  game  which  is  as  ancient  as  Ulys- 
ses, and  subject  to  certain  definite  rules." 

"Yes,  but—" 

"  But,  my  dear  lady,  this  revolution  I  have  planted  — 
nourished  and  cultivated  to  ripeness  —  I  cannot  har- 
vest it.  Outside  Europe  must  not  appear  interested  in 
this  matter.  If  the  Galavian  people  led  by  a  member  of 
the  Galavian  Royal  House  revolts!  Bien!  More  than 
bien  —  excellent !  "  Jusseret  spread  his  palms.  "  But 
unless  there  is  a  leader,  there  can  be  no  revolution. 
No,  no,  Louis  should  have  kept  out  of  custody." 

The  Countess  leaned  forward  with  sudden  eagerness. 

"  And  if  I  free  him?     If  I  devise  a  way?  " 

The  Frenchman  turned  quickly  from  contemplation 
of  the  landscape  to  her  face. 

"  Ah ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Once  more  you  are  your- 
self; the  cleverest  woman  in  Europe,  as,  always,  you 
are  the  most  charming ! " 

"  Do  you  know  where  Monsieur  Martin  may  be 
found?  » 

Jusseret  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 


206  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  supposed  he  was  here,  consulting  with  you.  I 
sent  him  to  you  with  a  letter  —  recommending  him  as 
a  useful  instrument." 

"  He  was  in  Algiers,  but  I  sent  him  away."  The 
Countess  laughed.  "  He  wanted  money,  always  money, 
until  I  wearied  of  furnishing  his  purse." 

"  Even  if  he  were  available  he  could  hardly  go  to 
Puntal,  Madame,"  demurred  Jusseret.  "  Von  Ritz 
knows  him." 

"  True."  The  Countess  sat  for  a  time  in  deep 
thought. 

"  There  is  one  man  in  Puntal,"  said  Jusseret  with 
sudden  thought,  "  who  might  possibly  be  of  assistance 
to  you.  He  is  not  legally  a  citizen  of  Galavia.  He 
even  has  a  certain  official  connection  with  another  gov- 
ernment. He  is  a  man  I  cannot  myself  approach." 
Jusseret  had  been  talking  in  a  low  tone,  too  low  to 
endanger  being  overheard  by  the  cocher,  but  now  with 
excess  of  caution  he  leaned  forward  and  whispered  a 
name.  The  name  was  Jose  Reebeler. 

It  was  June.  Three  months  had  passed  since  the 
Grand  Duke  had  steamed  into  Puntal  Harbor  as 
Blanco's  prisoner  of  war.  The  Duke  had  since  that 
day  been  a  guest  of  the  King.  His  goings  and  com- 
ings were,  however,  guarded  with  strict  solicitude.  One 
day  he  went  after  his  custom  for  a  stroll  in  the  Palace 


THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      207 

garden.  He  was  accompanied  by  two  officers  of  the 
Palace  Guard  especially  selected  by  Von  Ritz  for  known 
fidelity.  At  the  garden  gates  stood  picked  sentinels. 
That  evening  a  fisherman's  boat  stole  out  of  the  harbor. 
Neither  Louis  Delgado  nor  his  guard  returned.  The 
sentinels  failed  to  respond  at  roll-call. 

As  the  King  and  the  Colonel  listened  to  the  report  of 
the  escape,  KaryPs  face  paled  a  little  and  the  features 
of  Von  Ritz  hardened.  Orders  were  given  for  an  in- 
stant dispatch  in  cipher,  demanding  from  a  secret  agent 
in  Algiers  all  information  obtainable  as  to  the  move- 
ments of  the  Countess  Astaride.  The  reply  brought  the 
statement  that  the  Countess  had,  several  days  before, 
sailed  for  Alexandria  and  Cairo. 

Von  Ritz  became  preternaturally  active,  masking 
every  movement  under  his  accustomed  seeming  of  im- 
perturbable calm.  At  last  he  brought  his  report  to  the 
King.  "  It  signifies  one  thing  which  I  had  not  sus- 
pected. Among  the  men  whom  I  thought  I  could  most 
implicitly  trust,  there  is  treason.  How  deep  that  cancer 
goes  is  a  matter  as  to  which  we  can  only  make  guesses." 

Karyl  took  a  few  turns  across  the  floor. 

"  And  by  that  you  mean  that  we  are  over  a  volcano 
which  may  break  into  eruption  at  any  moment?  " 

Von  Ritz  nodded. 

"  And  the  Queen  — "  began  Karyl. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  Her  Majesty,"   said  the 


208  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Colonel.  "  She  should  leave  Puntal,  but  she  will  not 
go,  if  it  occurs  to  her  that  she  is  being  sent  away  to 
escape  danger.  Her  Majesty's  courage  might  almost 
be  called  stubborn." 

The  King  made  no  immediate  response.  He  was 
standing  at  a  window,  looking  out  at  the  serenity  of  sea 
and  sky.  His  forehead  was  drawn  in  thought.  He 
knew  that  Von  Ritz  was  right.  Had  Cara  hated  him, 
instead  of  merely  finding  herself  unable  to  love  him,  he 
knew  that  the  first  threat  of  danger  would  arouse  the 
ally  in  her,  and  that  the  suggestion  of  flight  would 
throw  her  into  the  attitude  of  determined  resistance. 
She  was  like  the  captain  who  goes  down  with  his  ship, 
not  because  he  loves  the  ship,  but  because  his  place  is 
on  the  bridge. 

Von  Ritz  went  on  quietly. 

"  God  grant  that  Your  Majesty  may  be  in  no  actual 
danger.  But  we  must  face  the  situation  open-eyed. 
Your  place  is  here.  If  by  mischance  you  should  fall, 
there  is  no  reason  why  — "  he  hesitated,  then  added  — 
"  why  the  dynasty  should  end  with  you.  In  Galavia 
there  is  no  Salic  law.  Her  Majesty  could  reign.  Un- 
doubtedly the  Queen  should  be  in  some  safer  place." 

The  King  dropped  into  a  chair  and  sat  for  some  min- 
utes with  his  eyes  thoughtfully  on  the  floor.  Abstract- 
edly he  puffed  a  cigarette.  At  last  he  raised  his  face. 
It  was  pale,  but  stamped  with  determination. 


THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      209 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,  Von  Ritz.  There  is 
one  available  refuge." 

The  soldier  read  the  reluctant  eyes  of  the  other,  and 
spared  him  the  necessary  explanation  with  a  question. 
"Mr.  Benton's  yacht?  "  he  inquired. 

Karyl  nodded.     "  The  yacht." 

"  I,  too,  had  thought  of  that,  but  how  can  you  ar- 
range it,  Your  Majesty?  " 

"  We  must  persuade  her  that  she  requires  a  change 
of  scene  and  that  this  is  the  one  way  she  can  have 
it  without  conspicuousness.  It  can  be  given  out 
that  she  has  gone  to  Maritzburg,  and  I  shall  tell  her  " 
—  Karyl  smiled  with  a  cynical  humor  — "  that  I  am 
over-weary  with  this  task  of  Kingship,  and  that  I  shall 
join  her  within  a  few  days  for  a  brief  truancy  from  the 
cares  of  state." 

"  It  may  be  the  safest  thing,"  reflected  the  officer. 
"  It  at  least  frees  our  minds  of  a  burdensome  anxiety." 

"  I  shall  persuade  her,"  declared  Karyl.  "  She  can 
take  several  ladies-in-waiting  and  you  can  accompany 
her  to  the  yacht  and  explain  to  Benton.  Direct  him  to 
cruise  within  wireless  call  and  to  avoid  cities  where  the 
Queen  might  be  in  danger  of  recognition.  She  must 
remain  until  we  gain  some  hint  as  to  when  and  where  the 
crater  is  apt  to  break  into  eruption." 

Jusseret  was  busy.  His  agencies  were  at  work  over 
the  peninsula,  It  was  the  sort  of  conspiracy  in  which 


210  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  Frenchman  took  the  keenest  delight  —  purely  a  mil- 
itary revolution. 

The  peasant  on  the  mountains,  the  agriculturist  in 
his  buttressed  and  terraced  farm,  the  grape-grower  in 
his  vineyard  and  the  artisan  and  laborer  in  Puntal  did 
not  know  that  there  was  dissatisfaction  with  the  gov- 
ernment. 

But  in  the  small  army  and  the  smaller  bureaucracy 
there  was  plotting  and  undermining.  Subtle  and  de- 
vious temptations  were  employed.  Captains  saw  before 
them  the  shoulder  straps  of  the  major,  lieutenants  the 
insignia  of  the  captain,  privates  the  chevrons  of  the 
sergeant. 

Meanwhile,  from  a  town  in  southerly  Europe,  near 
the  Galavian  frontier,  Monsieur  Jusseret  in  person  was 
alertly  watching. 

Martin,  the  "  English  Jackal,"  much  depleted  in  for- 
tune, drifting  before  vagabond  winds  and  hailing  last 
from  Malta,  learned  of  the  Frenchman's  seemingly 
empty  programme.  Since  his  dismissal  by  the  Countess, 
there  had  been  no  employer  for  his  unscrupulous  talents. 
Now  he  needed  funds.  Where  Jusseret  operated  there 
might  be  work  in  his  particular  line.  He  knew  that  when 
this  man  seemed  most  idle  he  was  often  most  busy.  Mar- 
tin had  come  to  a  near-by  point  by  chance.  He  went  on 
to  Jusseret's  town,  and  then  to  his  hotel,  with  the  same 
surety  and  motive  that  directs  the  vulture  to  its  carrion. 


THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL      211 

The  Jackal  was  ushered  into  the  Frenchman's  room  in 
the  tattered  and  somewhat  disheveled  condition  to  which 
his  recent  weeks  of  vagabondage  had  subjected  him. 

Jusseret  looked  his  former  ally  over  with  scarcely 
concealed  contempt.  Martin  sustained  the  stare  and 
returned  it  with  one  coolly  audacious. 

"  I  daresay,"  he  began,  with  something  of  insolence 
in  his  drawl,  "  it's  hardly  necessary  to  explain  why  I'm 
here.  I'm  looking  for  something  to  do,  and  in  my 
condition " —  he  glanced  deprecatingly  down  at  his 
faded  tweeds  — "  one  can't  be  over  nice  in  selecting  one's 
business  associates." 

Jusseret  was  secretly  pleased.  He  divined  that  be- 
fore the  end  came  there  might  be  use  for  Martin,  though 
no  immediate  need  of  him  suggested  itself.  There  were 
so  few  men  obtainable  who  would,  without  question, 
undertake  and  execute  intrigue  or  homicide  equally  well. 
It  might  be  expedient  to  hold  this  one  in  reserve. 

"We  will  not  quarrel,  Monsieur  Martin,"  he  said 
almost  with  a  purr.  "  It  is  not  even  necessary  to  re- 
turn the  compliment.  It  is  so  well  understood,  why 
one  employs  your  capable  services." 

The  Englishman  flushed.  To  defend  his  reputation 
would  be  a  waste  of  time. 

"  Madame  la  Comptesse  d'Astaride,"  explained 
Jusseret,  "  has  gone  to  Cairo.  She  may  require  your 
wits  as  well  as  her  own  before  the  game  is  played  out. 


212  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Join  her  there  and  take  your  instructions  from  her." 
As  he  spoke  the  map-reviser  began  counting  bills  from 
his  well-supplied  purse.  Martin  looked  at  them  avidly, 
then  objected  with  a  surly  frown. 

"  She  sent  me  away  once,  and  I  don't  particularly 
care  for  the  Cairo  idea." 

"  This  time  she  will  not  send  you  away."  Jusseret 
glanced  up  with  a  bland  smile.  "  And  it  seems  I  re- 
member a  season,  not  so  many  years  gone,  when  you 
were  a  rather  prominent  personage  upon  the  terrace 
of  Shephard's.  You  were  quite  an  engaging  figure 
of  a  man,  Monsieur  Martin,  in  flannels  and  Panama 
hat,  quite  a  smart  figure ! " 

The  Englishman  scowled.  "  You  delight,  Monsieur, 
in  touching  the  raw  spots  —  However,  I  daresay  mat- 
ters will  go  rippingly."  He  took  the  bills  and  counted 
them  into  his  own  purse.  "  A  chap  can't  afford  to 
be  too  sentimental  or  thin-skinned."  He  was  thinking 
of  a  couple  of  clubs  in  Cairo  from  which  he  had  been 
asked  to  resign.  Then  he  laughed  callously  as  he 
added  aloud:  "You  see  there's  a  regiment  stationed 
there,  just  now,  which  I'd  rather  not  meet.  I  used  to 
belong  to  its  mess  —  once  upon  a  time." 

Jusseret  looked  up  at  the  renegade,  then  with  a 
cynical  laugh  he  rose. 

"  These  little  matters  are  inconvenient,"  he  admitted, 
"  but  embarrassments  beset  one  everywhere.  If  one 


THE  JACKAL  TAKES  THE  TRAIL   213 

turns  aside  to  avoid  his  old  regiment,  who  knows  but 
he  may  meet  his  tailor  insistent  upon  payment  —  or  the 
lady  who  was  once  his  wife  ?  " 

He  lighted  a  cigarette,  then  with  the  refined  cruelty 
that  enjoyed  torturing  a  victim  who  could  not  afford 
to  resent  his  brutality,  he  added: 

"  But  these  army  regulations  are  extremely  annoying, 
I  daresay  —  these  rules  which  proclaim  it  infamous 
to  recognize  one  who  —  who  has,  under  certain  circum- 
stances, ceased  to  be  a  brother-officer." 

The  Englishman  was  leaning  across  the  table,  his 
cheek-bones  red  and  his  eyes  dangerous. 

"  By  God,  Jusseret,  don't  go  too  far ! "  he  cautioned. 

The  Frenchman  raised  his  hands  in  an  apologetic 
gesture,  but  his  eyes  still  held  a  trace  of  the  malevolent 
smile. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  my  dear  Martin,"  he 
begged.  "  I  meant  only  to  be  sympathetic." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  DEATH   OF  ROMANCE  IS  DEPLORED 

<  *  A  ND  yet,"  declared  young  Harcourt,  "  if  there 
•*"  still  survives,  anywhere  in  the  world,  a  vestige 
of  Romance,  this  should  be  her  refuge;  her  last  stand 
against  the  encroachments  of  the  commonplace." 

He  spoke  animatedly,  with  the  double  eagerness  of 
a  boy  and  an  artist,  sweeping  one  hand  outward  in  an 
argumentative  gesture.  It  was  a  gesture  which  seemed 
to  submit  in  evidence  all  the  palpitating  colors  of  Capri 
sunning  herself  among  her  rocks:  all  the  sparkle  and 
glitter  of  the  Bay  of  Naples  spreading  away  to  the 
nebulous  line  where  Ischia  bulked  herself  in  mist  against 
the  horizon:  all  the  majesty  of  the  cone  where  the 
fires  of  Vesuvius  lay  sleeping. 

Across  the  table  Sir  Manuel  Blanco  shrugged  his 
broad  shoulders. 

Benton  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  a  smile,  scarcely  in- 
dicative of  frank  amusement,  flickered  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  hold  that  Romance  is  on  the  run  ? "  he 
queried. 

"  Where  do  you  find  it  nowadays  ?  "  demanded  the 
214- 


DEATH  OF  ROMANCE  IS  DEPLORED     215 

boy  in  flannels.  "  There !  "  With  the  violence  of  dis- 
gust he  slammed  a  Baedeker  of  Southern  Italy  down 
upon  the  table.  "  That  is  the  way  we  see  the  world 
in  these  days !  We  go  back  with  souvenir  postcards  in- 
stead of  experiences,  and  when  we  get  home  we  have 
just  been  to  a  lot  of  tramped-over  places.  I'll  wager 
that  a  handful  of  this  copper  junk  they  call  money 
over  here,  would  buy  in  a  bull  market  all  the  real  ad- 
venture any  of  us  will  ever  know." 

The  three  had  been  lunching  out-doors  in  a  Capri 
hotel  with  flagstones  for  a  floor  and  overhanging  vine- 
trellises  for  a  roof.  Chance  had  thrown  this  young 
stranger  across  their  path,  and  luncheon  had  cemented 
an  acquaintanceship. 

"Who  can  say?"  suggested  Benton.  "Why  hunt 
Trouble  under  the  alias  of  Romance?  Vesuvius,  across 
there,  is  as  vague  and  noiseless  to-day  as  a  wraith,  but 
to-morrow  his  demon  may  run  amuck  over  all  this  end 
of  Italy !  And  then  — "  His  laugh  finished  the  specu- 
lation. 

"And  yet,"  went  on  the  boy,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  I  was  just  thinking  of  a  chap  I  met  in  Algiers 
a  while  back  and  later  on  the  boat  to  Malta.  I  ran 
across  him  in  one  of  those  vile  little  twisting  alleys  in 
the  Kasbah  quarter  where  dirty  natives  sit  cross-legged 
on  shabby  rugs  and  eye  the  '  Infidel  dogs '  just  as 
spiders  watch  flies  from  loathsome  webs  —  ugh,  you 


216  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

know  the  sort  of  place ! "  He  paused  with  a  slight 
shudder  of  reminiscent  disgust.  "  I  fancy  he  has  had 
adventures.  We  had  a  glass  of  wine  later  down  at  one 
of  the  sidewalk  cafes  in  the  Boulevard  de  la  Republique. 
He  showed  me  lots  of  things  that  a  regular  guide  would 
have  omitted.  The  fellow  was  on  his  uppers,  yet  he 
had  been  something  else,  and  still  knew  genteel  people. 
Up  on  the  driveway  by  the  villas,  where  fashion  parades, 
he  excused  himself  to  speak  with  a  magnificently  dressed 
woman  in  a  brougham,  and  she  chatted  with  him  in  a 
manner  almost  confidential.  He  told  me  later  she  might 
some  day  occupy  a  throne;  I  think  her  name  was  the 
Countess  Astaride." 

Benton  looked  up  quickly  and  his  eyes  met  those  of 
the  Spaniard  with  a  swiftly  flashed  message  which  ex- 
cluded Harcourt. 

"  This  fellow  and  I  were  on  the  same  boat  coming 
over  to  Valetta,"  continued  the  young  tourist.  "  One 
night  in  the  smoke-room,  the  steward  was  filling  the 
glasses  pretty  frequently.  At  last  he  became  confiden- 
tial." 

"Yes?"  prompted  Benton. 

"  Well,  he  told  me  he  had  once  held  a  commission  in 
the  British  Army  and  had  seen  service  in  diplomacy  as 
military  attache.  Then  he  got  cashiered.  He  didn't 
go  into  particulars,  and  of  course  I  didn't  cross-ques- 
tion. He  recited  some  weird  experiences.  He  had  been 


DEATH  OF  ROMANCE  IS  DEPLORED     217 

a  cattle  man  in  Australia  and  a  horse-trader  in  Syria 
and  had  served  the  Sultan  in  Turkey.  There  were  lots 
of  things  that  would  have  made  a  good  book."  The 
boy's  voice  took  on  a  note  of  young  ardor.  "  But  the 
great  story  was  the  one  he  told  last.  He  had  stood  to 
win  a  title  of  nobility  in  this  two-by-four  Kingdom  of 
Galavia,  but  it  had  slipped  away  from  him  just  on  the 
verge  of  attainment." 

Harcourt  slowly  drained  his  thin  Capri  wine  and  set 
down  the  goblet. 

"  I  must  watch  the  time,"  he  remembered  at  last,  draw- 
ing out  his  watch.  "  I  do  the  Blue  Grotto  this  after- 
noon. .  .  .  Well,  to  continue:  This  chap  gave 
the  name  Browne  (he  insisted  that  it  be  Browne  with 
an  e),  though  while  he  was  drunk  he  called  himself 
Martin. 

"  He  told  a  long  and  complicated  story  of  plans  in 
which  a  King  was  to  lose  his  life  and  throne.  He  said 
that  the  secret  cabinets  of  several  of  the  major  Euro- 
pean governments  were  interested,  and  that  just  as  care- 
fully prepared  plans  were  about  to  be  consummated 
something  happened  —  something  mysterious  which 
none  of  the  cleverest  agents  of  the  governments  had 
been  able  to  solve.  In  some  unfathomable  way  someone 
had  discovered  everything  and  stepped  between  and  dis- 
arranged. No  upheaval  followed  and  of  course  Browne 
never  won  his  title.  They  have  never  yet  learned  who 


218  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

saved  that  throne.  Someone  is  working  magic  and 
getting  away  with  it  under  the  eyes  of  Europe's  clever- 
est detectives." 

The  boy  stopped  and  looked  about  to  see  if  his  re- 
cital had  aroused  the  proper  wonderment.  Both  men 
gave  expression  of  deep  interest.  Flattered  by  the  im- 
pression he  had  made,  Harcourt  went  on.  "  Now  you 
fellows  are  old  travelers  —  men  of  the  world  —  I  am 
a  kid  compared  to  you.  Yet  has  either  of  you  stumbled 
on  such  a  story  as  that?  So  you  see  wonderful  things 
do  sometimes  happen  under  the  surface  of  affairs  with 
never  a  ripple  at  the  top  of  the  water.  Browne  —  or 
Martin  —  said  that  the  Duke  would  reign  yet  —  oh,  yes, 
he  said  the  Powers  would  see  to  that !  " 

"  Senor,  what  became  of  your  friend?"  inquired 
Blanco. 

"  Oh ! "  the  boy  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  broke 
into  a  laugh.  "  I'm  afraid  that's  an  anti-climax. 
They  found  that  he  was  simply  a  nervy  stowaway.  He 
had  not  booked  his  passage  and  so  — " 

"  They  put  him  off?  " 

"  Yes,  at  Malta.  Meantime  he  was  stripped  to  the 
waist  and  armed  with  a  shovel  in  the  stoke-hold." 

Benton  laughed. 

"  There  was  another  phase  to  it,  though  — "  began 
the  boy  afresh. 


DEATH  OF  ROMANCE  IS  DEPLORED     219 

At  that  moment  the  whistle  of  the  small  excursion 
steamer  below  broke  out  in  a  shrill  scream.  Young  Har- 
court  hurriedly  pushed  back  his  chair  and  grabbed  for 
his  Panama  hat.  "Caesar!"  he  cried,  "there's  the 
whistle.  I  shall  miss  my  boat  for  the  Grotto."  And 
he  hastened  off  with  a  shout  of  summons  to  a  crazy 
victoria  that  was  clattering  by  empty. 

During  a  long  silence  Blanco  studied  the  cone  of 
Vesuvius. 

"  Blanco !  "  Benton  leaned  across  the  table  with  an 
anxious  frown  and  stretched  out  a  hand  which  over- 
turned the  wine  glasses.  "  There  was  one  thing  he  said 
that  stuck  in  my  memory.  He  said  the  Powers  would 
see  that  in  the  end  Louis  had  his  throne." 

The  Spaniard  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"  The  Powers  have  lost  their  instrument !  You  for- 
get, Senor,  that  this  is  underground  diplomacy.  It  must 
appear  to  work  itself  out  and  the  new  King  must  be 
logical.  With  Louis  a  prisoner  their  meddling  hands 
are  bound." 

Benton  rose  and  pushed  back  his  chair.  His  com- 
panion joined  him  and  together  they  passed  out  through 
the  stone-flagged  court  and  into  the  road.  For  fifteen 
minutes  they  walked  morosely  and  in  silence  through 
the  steep  streets  where  the  shops  are  tourist-traps,  al- 
luringly baited  with  corals  and  trinkets.  Finally  they 


220  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

came  out  on  the  beach  where  many  fishing  boats  were 
dragged  up  on  the  sand,  and  nets  stretched,  drying  in 
the  sun. 

Then  Benton  spoke. 

"  In  God's  name,  Manuel,  what  do  I  care  who  oc- 
cupies the  throne  of  Gala  via?  No  other  man  could  so 
block  my  path  as  Karyl."  Then  as  one  in  the  confes- 
sional he  declared  shamefacedly :  "  I  have  never  said  it 
to  any  man  because  it  is  too  much  like  murder,  but  — 
sometimes  I  wish  I  had  reached  Cadiz  one  day  later  than 
I  did."  He  drew  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  the 
moisture  from  his  forehead. 

The  Spaniard  skillfully  kindled  a  cigarette  in  the 
spurt  of  a  match,  which  the  gusty  sea-breeze  made  short- 
lived. 

"  And  now,"  he  calmly  suggested,  "  it  is  still  possible 
to  let  Europe  play  out  her  game  alone.  After  all, 
Senor,  we  are  as  the  young  touristo  indicated  —  only 
amateurs." 

"And  yet,  Manuel,"  the  American  smiled  half- 
quizzically,  "  yet  we  seem  foreordained  to  play  body- 
guard to  Karyl.  Fate  throws  him  on  our  hands." 

"  We  might  decline  in  future  to  accept  the  charge." 

Benton  halted  so  close  to  the  water's  edge  that  a  bit 
of  sea-weed  was  washed  up  close  to  his  feet.  "  Any 
threat  to  the  throne  of  Galavia  now  is  also  a  threat  to 
Her.  We  must  learn  what  these  Powers  purpose  do- 


DEATH  OF  ROMANCE  IS  DEPLORED     221 

ing."  He  threw  back  his  shoulders  and  his  step  quick- 
ened with  the  resolution  of  fresh  action. 

"  Besides,"  he  supplemented,  "  Delgado  is  a  dream- 
ing degenerate !  We  must  get  back  into  the  game." 

The  Spaniard  laughed.  "  As  you  say,  Senor.  After 
all,  this  mere  cruising  grows  monotonous.  Playing  the 
game  is  better." 

When,  at  twilight  that  evening,  the  launch  came 
chugging  back  to  the  yacht  with  the  mail  from  Naples, 
Benton  caught  sight  of  a  blue  envelope  in  which  he 
recognized  the  form  of  the  Italian  telegraph.  He  tore 
it  open  and  his  brows  contracted  in  incredulous  wonder- 
ment as  he  read  the  message. 

"  Miss  Carstow  and  two  other  ladies  arrive  Parker's 
Hotel  Naples  Tuesday  afternoon.  Rely  on  your  meet- 
ing her  with  yacht.  She  will  explain.  Be  ready  to 
sail  immediately  on  arrival.  Address  reply  Pagratide, 
care  Grand  Palace  Hotel." 

Benton  smiled  almost  happily  as  he  scrawled,  in  re- 
ply, "  Isis  and  self  at  Miss  Carstow's  service.  Waiting 
under  steam.  Benton." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NAPLES    ASSUMES    NEW    BEAUTY 

E  following  day  was  Tuesday.  It  found  Benton 
nearer  cheerfulness  than  he  had  been  since  the 
Isls  had  in  February  pointed  her  bow  eastward  for  the 
run  across  the  Atlantic,  under  sealed  orders. 

To  Blanco  the  yachtsman  announced  that  he  would 
lunch  at  Parker's,  and  evasively  asked  the  Spaniard  if 
he  would  mind  being  left  alone  for  the  day. 

As  the  coachman,  hailed  at  random  from  the  mob  of 
brigands  by  the  Custom-house  entrance,  cracked  his 
whip  over  the  bony  stallion  in  the  fiacre  shafts,  Benton 
began  to  notice  that  Naples  was  altogether  charming. 
He  found  no  refusals  for  the  tatterdemalion  vagabonds 
who  pattered  alongside  to  thrust  their  violets  over  the 
carriage  door. 

At  last,  as  he  paced  one  of  the  main  parlors  of  the 
hotel,  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  street  entrance,  he  heard  a 
laugh  behind  him ;  a  laugh  tempered  with  a  vibrant  mel- 
lowness which  was  of  a  sort  with  no  other  laugh,  and 
which  set  him  vibrating  in  turn,  as  promptly  as  a  tun- 
ing-fork answers  to  its  note. 
222 


NAPLES  ASSUMES  NEW  BEAUTY      223 

The  sound  brought  him  round  in  such  electric  haste 
as  almost  resulted  in  collision  with  the  girl  behind  him. 

He  was  prepared,  of  course,  to  find  in  her  incognita 
no  suggestion  of  Royalty,  yet  now  when  he  met  her 
standing  alone,  and  could  take  the  hand  she  held  out  to 
him  with  her  heart-breaking,  heart-recompensating 
smile,  he  felt  a  distinct  sense  of  astonishment. 

"  I'm  having  a  holiday,"  she  declared.  "  It's  to  be 
the  Queen's  day  off  and  you  are  being  allowed  to  play 
host  with  the  Isis.  Do  you  approve?  " 

With  abandonment  to  the  delight  of  mere  propin- 
quity, he  laid  away  sorrow  against  the  returning  time  of 
her  absence,  as  one  lays  away  an  umbrella  until  the  next 
shower. 

"Approve?"  he  mocked.  "It's  like  asking  the 
drowning  man  if  he  approves  of  being  picked  up." 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  clouded  and  a  droop  threat- 
ened her  lips. 

"  But,"  she  said  in  a  softer  tone,  "  what  if  you've  got 
to  be  thrown  back  into  the  sea  again?"  Then  she 
added,  "  And,  you  see,  I  have.  Probably  I'm  very  fool- 
ish to  come.  The  prison  will  only  be  blacker,  but  I 
couldn't  stand  it.  I  wanted — "  She  looked  at  him 
with  the  frankness  which  has  nothing  to  conceal — "I 
wanted  to  forget  it  all  for  a  little  time." 

With  a  frigid  salutation,  Colonel  Von  Ritz  arrived. 
As  he  addressed  the  American,  despite  his  flawless 


224  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

courtesy,  his  voice  still  carried  the  undercurrent  of  an- 
tagonism which  no  word  of  his  had  ever  failed  to  convey 
to  Benton,  since  their  first  meeting  in  America. 

"  If  Miss  Carstow  " —  he  uttered  the  assumed  name 
with  distaste  — "  will  excuse  you,"  he  suggested,  "  I 
should  like  a  word." 

Von  Ritz  led  the  way  out  of  doors  and  between  the 
tables  and  trellises  of  the  garden  until  he  came  upon  a 
spot  which  seemed  to  promise  the  greatest  possible  de- 
gree of  privacy.  There  he  stopped  and  stood  looking 
straight  ahead  of  him. 

"  All  that  I  now  tell  you,  Mr.  Benton  " —  his  voice 
was  even  and  polite  to  a  nicety,  yet  distinctly  icy  — "  is 
of  course  a  message  from  the  King." 

"  Meaning,"  Benton  smiled  with  polite  indifference, 
"  that  your  personal  communications  with  me  would  be 
few?" 

"  Meaning,"  corrected  Von  Ritz  gravely,  "  that  in 
His  Majesty's  affairs,  I  speak  only  on  His  Majesty's 
authority." 

"  Colonel,  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  began  the  Galavian  at  last, 
"  His  Majesty  wished  me  to  explain  why  he  has  pre- 
sumed on  your  further  assistance.  You  are  the  only 
man  outside  Galavia  who  understands  —  and  whom  the 
King  may  implicitly  trust,  trust  even  with  the  safety  of 
Her  Majesty,  the  Queen." 


NAPLES  ASSUMES  NEW  BEAUTY      225 

"  You  will  convey  to  the  King  my  appreciation  of 
his  confidence."  Somehow,  between  the  American  and 
this  emissary  of  Karyl,  there  could  never  be  any  atti- 
tude other  than  that  of  the  utmost  formality. 

Von  Ritz  sketched  the  situation. 

"  It  is  important  that  the  world  should  not  know  of 
Her  Majesty's  departure.  It  would  be  an  admission  to 
the  conspirators  that  the  King  feels  his  weakness,  and 
would  invite  attack.  For  this  reason  she  could  not 
leave  in  the  ordinary  way.  Fortunately,  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult for  Her  Majesty  to  escape  recognition.  She  is 
perhaps  the  one  Queen  in  Europe  whose  published  por- 
traits would  not  make  it  impossible  for  her  to  go  un- 
known through  the  cities  of  the  Continent.  Her  preju- 
dice against  photographs  has  given  her  that  immunity. 
She  might  walk  through  Paris  unrecognized." 

Benton  looked  narrowly  at  Von  Ritz.  "  How  much 
does  she  know  of  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  nothing.  She  has  been  persuaded  to 
regard  the  truancy  as  a  break  in  the  routine  of  Court 
life,  which — "  Von  Ritz  hesitated,  then  went  on  dog- 
gedly — "  which  she  finds  distasteful.  She  does  not  even 
know  that  the  Duke  is  free.  That  is  as  closely  guarded 
a  secret  as  the  fact  that  he  was  being  held  under  duress." 

The  soldier  paused,  then  went  on.  "  The  King  has 
told  Her  Majesty  that  he  hopes  to  join  her  on  your 
yacht  within  a  few  days.  You  will  please  encourage 


226  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

that  fiction.  In  point  of  fact,"  with  a  gesture  of  de- 
spair, "  if  His  Majesty  were  to  leave  now  he  would 
never  return,  and  if  he  remains  now  he  may  never  again 
leave.  I  must  myself  hasten  back." 

The  two  men  went  at  some  length  over  the  details  of 
the  situation.  It  was  agreed  that  the  simple  name  of 
a  town  received  by  wireless  should  be  a  signal  upon 
which  the  Isis  would  proceed  with  all  possible  haste  to 
the  place  designated.  If  the  necessity  should  arise  for 
Karyl's  leaving  Galavia,  he  might  in  this  way  take 
refuge  on  the  yacht.  This,  explained  Von  Ritz,  was 
only  the  final  precaution  of  preparing  for  every  exi- 
gency. His  Majesty  was  determined  not  to  leave  his 
city  alive,  until  he  could  leave  it  in  the  full  security  of 
his  established  government. 

The  King  also  made  another  request.  If  Blanco 
could  be  spared  and  would  consent  to  come  to  Puntal, 
his  proven  ability,  together  with  his  understanding  of 
the  language  and  the  fact  that  he  was  not  generally 
known  in  Puntal,  would  give  him  untold  value.  All 
the  government's  secret  agents  were  either  under  sus- 
picion of  treason  or  too  well  known  to  the  conspirators 
to  be  of  great  avail.  If  Blanco  agreed  to  come,  he 
might  return  with  Von  Ritz,  or  follow  him  at  once  and 
await  instructions  at  his  hotel,  using  care  to  avoid  the 
semblance  of  open  communication  with  the  Palace. 


NAPLES  ASSUMES  NEW  BEAUTY      227 

On  his  return  to  the  parlors,  Cara  presented  Benton 
to  her  ladies-in-waiting,  the  Countess  Fernandez  and 
the  Countess  Jaurez,  who  were  to  travel  as  Miss 
Carstow's  aunts. 

When  there  is  a  three-quarter  moon  and  an  atmosphere 
as  subtle  as  perfume;  when  the  walls  of  the  city  lose 
their  ragged  lines  and  melt  into  soft  shadow  shapes, 
relieved  here  and  there  by  lights  which  the  waters  mir- 
ror, night  and  the  Bay  of  Naples  are  not  bad.  Then 
the  small  boats  which  bob  alongside  are  filled  with 
picturesque  beggars  raising  huge  bunches  of  violets  on 
bamboo  poles  to  the  deck  rails,  and  the  mingling  of 
singing  voices  with  guitars  sets  it  all  to  music. 

On  the  forward  deck  Benton  stood  leaning  on  the 
rail  and  looking  toward  the  city.  At  his  side  was  Cara 
Carstow.  She  was  silent,  but  she  shook  her  head,  and 
the  man's  solicitous  scrutiny  caught  the  deepening 
thought-furrow  between  her  eyes,  and  the  twitching  of 
her  fingers. 

He  bent  forward  and  spoke  softly.  **  Cara,  what  is 
it?  "  She  looked  up  and  smiled.  "  I  was  remembering 
that  I  stood  just  here,  once  before,"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  asked  quietly,  "  that  there  has 
been  a  moment  since  then  that  I  have  not  remembered 
it?  That  night  you  belonged  to  me  and  I  to  you." 


228  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  guess,"  she  said  rather  wearily,  "  we  don't  any  of 
us  belong  to  ourselves  or  to  those  we  love  most.  We 
just  belong  to  Fate." 

"  Cara !  "  He  gripped  the  rail  tightly  and  his  words 
fell  evenly.  "  Over  there  in  America,  you  admitted  to 
me  that  you  loved  me.  That  was  when  you  were  not 
yet  Queen  of  Galavia."  He  brought  himself  up  with  a 
sudden  halt.  She  looked  up  as  frankly  as  a  child. 

"I  didn't  admit  it,"  she  said.  "We  only  admit 
things  against  our  will,  don't  we?  I  told  you  gladly." 

"And  now  — !"  He  held  his  breath  as  he  looked 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Now  I  am  the  Queen  of  a  hideous  little  Kingdom," 
she  shuddered.  "  It  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  say  it  now, 
would  it?" 

"  Oh !  "  The  man  leaned  again  heavily  on  the  rail. 
The  monosyllable  was  eloquent.  Impulsively  she  bent 
toward  him,  then  caught  herself.  For  a  moment  she 
looked  out  at  the  water  undulating  under  the  moon  like 
mother-of-pearl  on  a  waving  fan.  "  But  it  was  all 
right  to  say  I  loved  you  then,"  she  went  on  reflectively, 
after  a  pause.  "  I  had  a  perfect  right  then  to  tell 
you  that  I  loved  you  better  than  all  the  small  total  of 
the  world  beside,  and — "  her  voice  faltered  for  a 
moment  — "  and,"  with  a  musical  laugh,  she  illogic- 
ally  added,  "  I  have  nothing  to  take  back  of  what  I 
then  said,  though  of  course  I  can't  ever  say  it  again." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS  THE  KING'S  QUERY 

Q1EVERAL  days  later,  Blanco  arrived  in  Puntal 
^  shortly  after  the  lazy  noon  hour. 

Out  of  disconnected  fragments  of  fact  and  memory 
he  had  evolved  a  theory.  It  was  a  theory  as  yet  imma- 
ture and  half-baked,  but  one  upon  which  he  resolved 
to  act,  trusting  to  the  lucky  outcome  of  subsequent 
events  for  the  filling  in  of  many  gaps,  and  the  making 
good  of  many  deficiencies. 

Among  the  shreds  of  fragmentary  information  which 
Manuel  had  previously  stored  away  in  his  memory 
was  the  fact  that  one  Jose  Reebeler  was  a  capitalist. 
This  was  not  exclusive  information.  Every  guide  and 
casual  acquaintance  hastened  to  sing  for  the  newcomer 
the  saga  of  Reebeler's  importance.  One  was  informed 
that  this  magnate  owned  the  three  tourist  hotels  and 
their  acres  of  vine-covered  gardens ;  that  he  controlled 
the  half -humorous  pretense  of  a  street-railway  company 
and  that  even  the  huge,  dominating  rock  upon  which 
perched  the  pavilions  and  casino  of  the  Strangers' 
Club  was  his  property.  Still  more  significant,  to 


230  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Blanco's  reasoning,  was  the  fact  that  Reebeler,  though 
Puntal-born,  was  of  British  parentage  and  that  over 
his  house,  in  the  Ruo  do  Consilhiero,  floated  both 
British  and  American  flags,  while  the  double  coat-of- 
arms  above  his  balcony  proclaimed  him  the  consular 
agent  of  both  governments.  Here,  reasoned  Blanco, 
was  a  man  shielded  behind  the  devices  of  two  nations, 
neither  of  which  was  engaged  in  petty  Mediterranean 
intrigue.  He  would  be  the  last  man  in  Puntal  to 
challenge  a  suspicious  glance  from  the  Palace,  yet 
as  a  man  of  moneyed  enterprise  his  wish  for  conces- 
sions might  well  give  a  political  coloring  to  his  thoughts. 
Somewhere  he  had  heard  that  the  Strangers'  Club 
aspired  to  the  establishment  of  a  gambling  Mecca  which 
should  rival  Monte  Carlo  in  magnitude  and  that  the 
present  impediment  was  the  frown  of  the  government 
upon  such  a  wholesale  gambling  enterprise.  It  was 
quite  unlikely  that  the  Delgado  government  would  dis- 
courage a  syndicate  which  could  turn  a  munificent 
revenue  into  its  taxing  coffers. 

Through  a  shaded  courtyard  where  a  small  fountain 
tinkled,  Blanco  strolled  to  the  Consular  office  and  rapped 
on  the  door.  He  was  conducted  by  a  native  servant 
to  an  inner  room.  Here,  while  a  great  blue-bottle  fly 
droned  and  thumped,  Reebeler,  a  heavy  Briton  with 
mild  eyes,  sprawled  his  length  in  a  wicker  chair  and 
poured  brandy  and  soda.  First  Blanco  represented 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS    231 

himself  as  an  adoptive  American,  touring  the  world 
and  interested  in  natural  resources.  When  his  host  had 
exhausted  the  subject  of  the  wine-grower's  battle 
against  the  ravages  of  "  oidium  Tuckeri  "  and  **  phy- 
loxera,"  Blanco  picked  up  a  stick  of  sealing-wax  from 
the  table  and  commenced  toying  with  it  in  a  manner 
of  aimlessness.  He  struck  match  after  match  and 
melted  pellet  after  pellet  of  wax,  then  absently  he  took 
from  his  pocket  a  gold  seal-ring  and  made,  with  its 
shield,  several  impressions  on  the  wax.  Reebeler's  eyes 
were  half-closed  as  he  gazed  vacantly  at  the  pigeons 
cooing  and  strutting  in  his  courtyard. 

"  See,  I  have  at  last  got  a  good  impression."  The 
Spaniard  idly  tossed  over  the  scrap  of  paper  upon 
which  he  had  stamped  a  half-dozen  of  Louis  Del- 
gado's  crests  from  the  die  of  the  Comptessa  Astaride's 
ring. 

The  Consul  took  the  fragment  of  paper  with  the 
manner  of  one  forced  by  politeness  to  assume  an  in- 
terest in  trivialities  which  bore  him. 

"  See  how  clearly  the  device  of  His  Grace  stands  out 
in  the  last  impression,"  casually  suggested  Blanco,  then 
with  eyes  narrowly  bent  on  the  other  he  saw  the  as- 
tonished start  as  his  vis-a-vis  realized  what  device  had 
been  imprinted  on  the  paper.  It  was  the  sign  for  which 
he  had  played.  When  Reebeler's  eyes  came  up  ques- 
tioningly  to  his  own,  he,  too,  was  looking  off  through 


232  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  raised  window  where  the  limp  curtain  barely  trem- 
bled in  the  light  breeze. 

"  The    ring   is    interesting,"    suggested   the    Consul. 

"  The  arms  seem  to  be  those  of  a  family  of  Galavia 
which  is  connected  with  Royalty.  Did  you  pick  it  up 
in  a  curio  shop?  If  so,  some  servant  must  have  stolen 
it." 

Blanco  stood  up.  "  We  waste  time  fencing,  Seftor 
Reebeler,"  he  said.  "  His  Grace,  Louis  Delgado,  was 
held  captive  by  the  King  until  several  days  ago.  He 
then  escaped.  That  escape  has  been  kept  secret  by 
the  King.  Only  men  in  the  Duke's  confidence  know 
of  it.  I  am  in  the  service  of  His  Grace  and  I  report 
to  you.  In  these  times  we  do  not  carry  signed  letters 
of  introduction  —  those  of  us  at  least  who  are  not 
protected  behind  the  insignia  of  Consular  office." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Reebeler,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  brandy  and  perplexity,  breathed  heavily. 
Blanco  poured  from  a  squat  bottle  and  watched  the 
soda  bubble  in  the  glass. 

Finally  the  Consul  inquired  with  a  show  of  indiffer- 
ence :  "  Why  do  you  assume  that  I  know  anything  of 
this  matter?  " 

Blanco  laughed.  "  I  have  already  told  you  that  I 
come  from  His  Grace.  Naturally  His  Grace  knew  to 
whom  to  commend  me.  I  have  frankly  given  myself 
into  vour  hands  by  declaring  my  sentiments.  On  the 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS    233 

other  hand,  you  decline  a  similar  confidence.  You  are 
discreet."  He  waved  his  hand.  "  Adios" 

"  Wait."  The  Consul  stopped  him  at  the  door.  He 
paused,  cleared  his  throat  and  then  abruptly  suggested: 
"  Suppose  you  return  to-morrow  at  six." 

The  Spaniard  bowed.  "  I  only  wish  you  to  test  me, 
Senor." 

That  evening  Blanco  knew  that  he  was  being  shad- 
owed. The  next  day  he  had  the  same  sense  of  being 
incessantly  watched.  This  was  a  thing  which  he  had 
expected  and  for  which  he  was  prepared.  Promptly  at 
six  o'clock  he  returned  to  the  Rue  do  Consilkiero. 

He  knew  that  his  greatest  danger  lay  in  the  possi- 
bility of  communication  by  the  conspirators  with  the 
Duke  or  the  Countess,  but  he  had  been  assured  that 
Marie  Astaride  was  in  Cairo  and  it  could  safely  be 
assumed  that  Delgado  would  return  to  Galavia  only  at 
the  psychological  moment.  If  either  of  these  assump- 
tions were  false  Louis  would,  of  course,  recognize  the 
description  of  his  kidnapper.  The  Countess  would 
connect  the  episode  of  the  ring  with  the  former  check- 
mating of  her  plans.  At  all  events,  he  must  chance  those 
possibilities. 

This  time  the  Consulate  was  discreetly  shut  in  by 
drawn  jealousies.  Within,  beside  Reebeler  himself,  were 
a  number  of  men,  all  of  whom  narrowly  scrutinized  the 
newcomer.  Those  who  were  not  in  uniform  carried 


234  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

themselves  with  a  cocky  smartness  that  belied  their  civil- 
ian clothes.  The  man  from  Cadiz  returned  their  gaze 
with  the  same  imperturbable  steadiness  and  the  same 
concealed  wariness  which  he  had  employed  when,  in 
the  Plaza  de  Toros,  he  awaited  the  charge  of  the 
bull. 

For  a  time  they  allowed  him  to  stand  in  silence  under 
the  embarrassing  batteries  of  their  eyes,  then  an  elderly 
officer  assumed  the  position  of  spokesman. 

"  If  you  are  a  spy  your  experience  will  be  brief," 
he  announced. 

Blanco  smiled. 

"  That  is  as  it  should  be,  Senor.  Spies  are  not  en- 
titled to  an  old  age." 

"  We  are  going  to  test  you,"  continued  the  officer. 
"  We  have  need  of  men  of  courage.  If,  as  you  claim, 
the  Duke  sent  you,  he  must  have  done  so  because  he 
regarded  you  as  available.  If  you  prove  trustworthy, 
all  right.  If  not,  it  is  your  misfortune,  because  in  the 
place  where  we  mean  to  use  you  you  will  have  no 
opportunity  to  betray  us,  and  a  very  excellent  oppor- 
tunity of  meeting  death.  We  cannot  now  communicate 
with  His  Grace  for  corroboration,  so  we  shall  let  you 
prove  yourself.  You  seem  to  bear  no  message  from 
the  Duke.  That  has  the  smell  of  suspicion." 

"On    the    contrary,"    retorted    the    Spaniard,    "the 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS    235 

Duke  believed  that  a  man  who  was  a  stranger  might 
prove  of  value.  I  was  to  take  my  instructions  from 
you." 

Blanco  wondered  vaguely  what  the  future  held  for 
him.  Evidently  their  acceptance  of  his  services  was 
to  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  imprisonment.  He  could 
see  in  the  programme  small  opportunity  to  serve  the 
King.  His  instructions  had  been  to  win  into  their  con- 
fidence and  do  what  he  could. 

Two  weeks  later,  in  the  small  garden  giving  off  from 
the  King's  private  apartments,  and  perched  half-way 
up  the  buttressed  side  of  the  rock  on  which  sat  the 
Palace,  Karyl  impatiently  awaited  the  coming  of 
Colonel  Von  Ritz.  Below  he  could  hear  a  brass  band 
in  the  Botanical  Gardens  and  out  in  the  bay  a  German 
war-ship,  decorated  for  a  dance,  blazed  like  a  set  piece 
in  a  pyrotechnic  display. 

There  was  peace,  summer,  perfume,  in  the  moonlit 
air  and  Karyl  smiled  ironically  as  he  reflected  that  even 
the  bodyguard  so  carefully  selected  by  Von  Ritz  might 
at  any  moment  enter  the  place  and  raise  the  shout  of 
"  Long  live  King  Louis !  " 

Leaning  over  the  parapet,  he  could  see  one  of  his 
fantastically  uniformed  soldiery  pacing  back  and  forth 
before  a  sentry-box,  his  musket  jauntily  shouldered, 


236  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

and  a  bayonet  glinting  at  his  belt.  Karyl  stood  look- 
ing, and  his  lips  curled  skeptically  as  he  wondered 
whether  the  man  would  repel  or  admit  assassins. 

Somewhat  wearily  the  King  turned  and  leaned  on 
the  stone  coping  of  the  outer  wall.  He  was  at  one 
end  where  a  shadow  cloaked  him,  but  he  lighted  a 
cigarette  and  the  match  that  flared  up  threw  an  orange- 
red  light  on  his  face,  showing  eyes  which  were  lusterless. 
For  a  few  moments  he  held  the  match  in  his  hollowed 
palms,  coaxing  its  blaze  in  the  breeze.  Before  it  had 
burned  out  there  came  a  sharp  report  and  Karyl  heard 
the  spat  of  flattening  lead  on  the  masonry  at  his  back. 
The  echo  rattled  along  the  rocky  side  of  the  hill. 
One  of  the  sentry-boxes  had  answered  his  unasked  ques- 
tion of  loyalty. 

He  waited.  There  was  no  rush  of  feet.  No  medley 
of  anxiously  inquiring  voices.  Others  had  heard  the 
report,  of  course,  yet  no  one  hastened  to  inquire  and 
investigate.  The  King,  pacing  farther  back  where 
his  silhouette  was  less  clearly  defined,  laughed  again, 
very  bitterly. 

Finally  Von  Ritz  came.  "  It  seems  that  we  can  rely 
on  no  one,"  he  said.  "  The  Palace  Guard  had  been 
picked  from  the  few  in  whom  I  still  believed.  I  had 
hoped  there  was  a  trustworthy  remnant." 

*'  One  of  them  has  just  tried  a  shot  at  me  with  one 
of  my  own  muskets."  The  King  spoke  impersonally 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS          237 

as  though  the  matter  bore  only  on  the  psychic  question 
of  trusting  men.  "  The  spot  is  there  on  the  wall." 
Then  he  added  with  bitter  whimsicality :  "  It  seems 
to  me,  Colonel,  that  we  have  either  very  poor  marksmen 
in  our  service,  or  else  we  supply  them  with  very  poor 
rifles." 

For  a  moment  Von  Ritz  almost  smiled.  "  I  was 
passing  the  point  as  he  touched  the  trigger,  Your 
Majesty,"  he  replied  with  calmness.  "  I  will  per- 
sonally vouch  for  his  future  harmlessness." 

The  lighted  door,  at  the  same  moment,  framed  the 
figure  of  an  aide.  "  Your  Majesty,"  he  said  with  a 
bow,  "  Monsieur  Jusseret  prays  a  brief  audience." 

Karyl  turned  to  Von  Ritz,  his  brows  arching  inter- 
rogation. In  answer  the  Colonel  wheeled  and  addressed 
the  officer,  who  waited  statuesquely :  "His  Majesty  will 
not  receive  Monsieur  Jusseret.  Any  matters  of  in- 
terest to  France  will  receive  His  Majesty's  attention 
when  they  reach  him  through  France's  properly  ac- 
credited ambassador." 

Yet  five  minutes  later,  Jusseret,  escorted  by  several 
officers  in  the  Galavian  uniform,  entered  the  garden 
through  the  door  of  the  King's  private  suite.  At  the 
monstrous  insolence  of  this  forbidden  invasion  of 
Karyl's  privacy,  Von  Ritz  stepped  forward.  His  voice 
was  even  colder  than  usual  with  the  chill  of  mortal 
fury. 


238  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  You  have  evidently  misunderstood.  The  King  de- 
clined to  receive  you  — "  he  began. 

Karyl  turned  his  head  and  looked  curiously  on.  The 
keen,  dissipated  eyes  of  the  sub-rosa  diplomat  twinkled 
humorously.  For  a  moment  the  thin  lips  twisted  into 
a  wry  smile. 

"  The  King  is  hardly  in  a  position  that  warrants 
declining  to  receive  me,"  he  announced  with  an  iron- 
ically ceremonious  bow  to  Karyl.  He  was  imperturba- 
ble and  impeccable  from  his  patent-leather  pumps  to 
the  Legion  of  Honor  ribbon  in  his  lapel. 

"  I  offer  the  King  an  opportunity  to  abdicate  his 
throne  —  and  retain  his  liberty.  Not  only  do  I  offer 
him  his  liberty,  but  also  such  an  income  as  will  make 
the  cafes  of  Paris  possible,  and  the  society  of  other 
gentlemen  who  are  also  —  well,  let  us  say  retired 
Royalties.  I  do  this  in  the  capacity  of  a  private  friend 
of  the  Grand  Duke  Louis  Delgado."  His  smile  was 
bland,  suave,  undisturbed. 

Von  Ritz  took  a  step  forward. 

"  Escort  Monsieur  Jusseret  to  the  Palace  gates ! " 
he  commanded,  his  eyes  blazing  on  the  Galavian  offi- 
cers. "  The  persons  of  even  secret  Ambassadors  are 
sacred  —  otherwise  — "  His  voice  failed  him. 

The  officers  cringed  back  under  his  glance,  but  stood 
supine  and  inactive. 

Karyl   waited   with   a   cold   smile   on    his    lips.     His 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS    239 

face  was  pale  but  there  was  no  touch  of  fear  in  the 
expression.  For  a  brief  psychological  moment  there 
was  absolute  silence,  then  the  Frenchman  spoke  again. 
"  Gentlemen,  you  are  my  prisoners."  Turning  to  the 
Colonel,  he  added :  "  You  have  clung  to  the  waning 
dynasty,  Von  Ritz,  until  it  fell,  but  your  sword  may 
still  find  service  in  Galavia.  I  offer  you  the  opportu- 
nity. We  have  often  crossed  wits.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  I  win  —  and  offer  amnesty." 

For  a  moment  Von  Ritz  stood  white  and  trembling 
with  rage,  then  with  his  open  hand  he  struck  the  smil- 
ing face  that  seemed  to  float  tauntingly  before  his  eyes, 
and  drawing  his  sword,  stepped  between  the  King  and 
the  suddenly  concentrated  group  of  officers  who  moved 
frontward  with  a  single  accord,  hands  on  swords.  They 
spread  from  a  group  into  a  line,  and  the  line  quickly 
closed  in  a  circle  around  the  King  and  the  one  man  who 
remained  loyal. 

Karyl  was  himself  unarmed.  He  raised  a  restrain- 
ing hand  to  Von  Ritz's  shoulder,  but  before  he  could 
speak  his  head  sagged  forward  under  the  impact  of 
some  sudden  shock  —  some  blow  from  behind  —  and 
things  went  dark  about  him  as  he  crumpled  to  his  knees 
and  fell. 

Von  Ritz,  struggling  desperately  with  a  broken  blade 
in  his  hand  was  slowly  overwhelmed  by  seeming  swarms 
of  men.  Like  a  tiger  caught  in  a  net,  his  ferocity 


240  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

gradually  waned  until,  bleeding  from  scratch-wounds 
in  a  half-dozen  places,  he  felt  himself  sinking  into  a 
haze.  His  useless  sword-hilt  fell  with  a  clatter  to  the 
tiles.  As  his  arms  were  pinioned  by  several  of  his  cap- 
tors, he  was  dreamily  aware  that  music  still  floated  up 
from  the  Botanical  Gardens  and  the  German  man-of- 
war.  Nearer  at  hand,  Von  Ritz  heard  —  or  perhaps 
dreamed  through  his  stupor  that  he  heard  —  a  voice 
exclaiming:  "Long  live  King  Louis!" 

There  had  been  no  noise  which  could  have  pene- 
trated beyond  the  King's  suite.  Less  than  ten  minutes 
had  elapsed  since  the  sentinel  had  been  pacing  below. 
Jusseret,  passing  unostentatiously  out  through  the 
Palace  gate,  glanced  at  his  watch  and  smiled.  It  had 
been  excellently  managed. 

Later,  Karyl  recovered  consciousness  to  find  things 
little  changed.  He  was  lying  on  a  leather  couch  in  his 
own  rooms.  The  windows  on  the  small  garden  still 
stood  open  and  the  moon,  riding  farther  down  the  west, 
bathed  the  outer  world  in  shimmer  of  silver,  but  at  each 
door  stood  a  sentinel. 

Karyl  remembered  that  during  Louis  Delgado's  re- 
cent captivity  he  had  fared  in  precisely  the  same  manner, 
neither  better  nor  worse. 

The  King  rose,  still  a  trifle  unsteady  from  the  blow 
he  had  received,  and  went  out  into  the  garden.  There 
was  no  effort  on  the  part  of  the  saluting  soldier  to  halt 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS          24.1 

him,  and  once  outside  he  realized  why  this  latitude  was 
allowed  him.  In  addition  to  the  man  at  the  door,  a 
second  walked  back  and  forth  by  the  outer  wall.  As 
Karyl  stepped  into  the  moonlight  this  man,  himself  in 
the  shadow,  saluted  as  his  fellow  had  done. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  command  the  guard,  Your 
Grace,"  said  the  man  in  a  respectful  voice.  "  It  is  by 
the  order  of  His  Majesty,  King  Louis."  Something 
in  the  enunciation  puzzled  Karyl  with  a  hint  of  the 
familiar. 

"  Why  do  you  remain  outside  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Over  this  wall,  any  comparatively  agile  man  might 
make  his  way  to  the  beach,  if  he  succeeded  in  passing 
the  muskets  of  the  sentry-boxes  —  and  there  are  boats 
at  the  water's  edge,"  explained  the  soldier  with  a  short 
laugh.  "  I  am  responsible  for  the  guard,  so  I  keep 
this  post  myself.  I  believe  myself  incorruptible  and 
men  with  thrones  at  stake  might  make  tempting  offers." 

Karyl  smiled.  "  What  would  you  regard  as  a  tempt- 
ing offer?  "  he  suggested. 

For  answer  the  man  came  into  the  light  and 
lifted  his  cap.  The  King  looked  into  the  dark  eyes 
of  Manuel  Blanco.  "  I  won  into  their  confidence  by 
the  hardest,"  he  explained  in  a  lowered  tone,  "but 
after  that,  I  had  no  opportunity  to  leave  them  or  com- 
municate with  you.  This  was  all  I  could  do.  As  it 
is,  I  shall  be  recognized  as  soon  as  the  Duke  arrives." 


242  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Blanco  raised  his  voice  again  in  casual  conversation 
and  beckoned  to  the  sentinel  at  the  door.  When  the 
man  approached  the  Spaniard  pointed  over  the  wall. 
"  Do  you  see  that  rock?  Is  that  a  figure  crouching 
behind  its  shelter?  "  he  demanded.  As  the  man  leaned 
forward,  Manuel  suddenly  struck  him  heavily  at  the 
back  of  the  neck  with  a  loose  stone  caught  up  from  the 
masonry's  coping.  The  soldier  dropped  without  a 
sound. 

"  Now,  Your  Majesty,  we  must  risk  it  down  the 
rock,"  prompted  the  man  from  Cadiz,  in  hurried,  low- 
pitched  words.  "  Moments  are  invaluable.  .  .  . 
It  is  only  while  I  command  the  guard  that  there  is 
a  chance  of  your  escape.  .  .  .  An  officer  may  come 
at  any  instant  on  a  round  of  inspection  —  my  dis- 
covery as  the  Duke's  kidnapper  is  a  matter  of  minutes. 
I  have  been  watched  and  tested  in  a  hundred 
ways;  it  was  only  to-day  that  I  convinced  them  of  my 
fanatic  zeal." 

Blanco  hurriedly  gave  his  cap  and  cape  to  the  King, 
donning  himself  the  blouse  of  Karyl's  undress  uniform. 
Then  the  two  crept  cautiously  down  the  rifted  face 
of  the  cliff,  holding  the  shadow  of  the  crevices.  One 
sentry-box  they  passed  safely,  and  finally  they  edged 
by  the  second  unnoticed.  They  had  negotiated  the 
hundred  feet  of  descent  and  stood  pressed  against  the 
bottom,  hugging  the  black  shadow.  They  were  wait- 


THE  SENTRY  BOX  ANSWERS    243 

ing  an  opportunity  to  slip  across  a  narrow  sliver  of 
intervening  moonlight  to  the  beach  and  the  boat  which 
lay  at  the  water's  edge. 

Occasional  lazy  clouds  drifted  across  the  sky.  The 
two  refugees,  goaded  by  the  realization  that  every 
wasted  second  cut  their  desperate  hope  more  and  more 
to  a  vanishing  point,  watched  the  fleecy  scraps  of  mist 
skim  by  the  moon  afar  off  without  veiling  its  face. 
Then  for  a  short  moment  a  shred  of  silver-tipped  cloud 
cut  off  the  radiance.  Blanco  seized  the  King's  arm 
in  a  wordless  signal.  Karyl  and  the  bull-fighter  raced 
across  to  the  boat  that  lay  at  the  water's  edge.  In  a 
moment  more  it  was  afloat  and  they  were  at  the  oars. 
The  moon  emerged  and  at  the  same  instant  an  outcry 
came  from  above.  The  musket  of  the  man  in  the 
lower  sentry-box  barked  with  a  blatant  reverberation. 
One  of  the  figures  in  the  boat  drooped  forward  and 
sagged  limply  over  his  oars.  The  other  only  re- 
doubled his  efforts.  And  then  again,  like  the  curtain 
of  a  theater,  a  cloud  dropped  downward  and  quenched 
the  moon  and  the  sea  and  the  rock  in  impartial  ob- 
scurity. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

"  SCABABS    OF    A    DEAD    DYNASTY  " 

INCE  the  anchor  had  been  weighed  at  Naples, 
the  days  had  passed  uneventfully  for  the  indo- 
lently cruising  I  sis  with  no  word  from  Galavia.  But 
at  last  the  operator  caught  his  call  and  made  ready 
to  receive.  The  message  consisted  of  one  word,  and 
the  word  was  "  Cairo." 

Cara,  with  no  suspicion  of  what  was  transpiring  in 
Puntal,  beguiled  by  the  spell  of  smooth  seas  and  dolce- 
far-niente  softness  of  sky,  was  once  more  the  frank 
and  charming  companion  of  the  American  days. 

The  single  word  of  the  Marconigram  had  left  the 
American  in  perplexity.  Evidently  either  Karyl  or 
Von  Ritz  was  to  meet  them  at  Cairo.  Probably  Cairo 
instead  of  Alexandria  had  been  designated  because  the 
King  had  taken  -into  consideration  the  possible  danger 
from  the  plague  at  the  seaport.  He  told  Cara  only  that 
Karyl  would  join  the  vacation  party  there  and  kept 
to  himself  the  reservation  that  his  coming  probably 
meant  disaster.  Yet  when  they  reached  Cairo  there 
was  no  news  awaiting  them. 

244 


"  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "     245 

It  was  the  night  of  a  confetti  fete  at  Shephard's 
Hotel.  Among  the  trees  of  the  gardens  were  ropes  of 
lights  and  the  soft  color-spots  of  Chinese  lanterns. 
Branches  glittered  with  incandescent  fruit  of  brilliant 
colors.  Flags  hung  between  the  fronds  of  the  palms 
and  the  plumes  of  the  acacias,  and  among  the  pleasure- 
seekers  from  East  and  West  of  Suez  fell  pelting 
showers  of  confetti. 

After  dinner  Cara  and  the  ladies  of  her  party  had 
withdrawn  to  their  rooms  to  prepare  for  the  gay  war- 
fare of  the  gardens.  Benton,  awaiting  them  in  the 
rotunda,  lounged  on  one  of  the  low  divans  which  circle 
the  walls  of  the  octagonal  chamber,  beneath  carved  lat- 
tices and  Moorish  panels ;  a  cigarette  between  his  fin- 
gers and  a  small  cup  of  black  coffee  on  the  low  tabouret 
at  his  elbow. 

The  place  invited  lazy  ease,  and  Benton  was  as 
indolent  among  his  cushions  as  the  spirit  of  brooding 
Egypt,  but  his  eyes,  watching  the  stairs  down  which 
she  would  come,  remained  alert. 

Hearing  his  name  called  in  a  voice  which  rang 
familiarly,  he  glanced  up  to  recognize  the  smiling  face 
of  young  Harcourt,  his  chance  acquaintance  of  Capri. 
He  set  down  the  small  Turkish  cup  and  rose. 

"  Come  back  to  the  bar  and  fortify  yourself  against 
the  thin  red  line  of  British  soldiery  out  there  in  the 
gardens.  You  can  get  a  ripping  highball  for  eight 


246  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

piastres,"  laughed  the  newcomer.     But  Benton  declined. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  ladies,"  he  explained.  "  I'll  see 
you  again." 

"  Sure  you  will."  Harcourt  paused.  "  I  dash  up 
the  Nile  in  the  morning,  going  to  do  Karnak  and 
Luxor  —  you  know,  the  usual  stunt.  Been  busy  all  day 
buying  scarabs  and  mummied  cats,  but  I  want  to  see 
you  sometime  to-night.  By  the  way,  I've  heard  some- 
thing—" 

"  All  right.  See  you  later."  Benton  spoke  hur- 
riedly, for  he  had  caught  the  flash  of  a  slender  figure 
in  white  on  the  stairs. 

In  the  war  of  the  confetti,  man  makes  war  on  woman 
and  woman  on  man,  while  over  the  field  reigns  a  uni- 
versal and  democratic  acquaintanceship. 

Cara  was  on  vacation,  and  a  child  —  bent  on  for- 
getting that  to-morrow  must  come.  It  was  character- 
istic of  her  that  she  should  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion  with  all  the  abandon  it  suggested. 

Benton  stood  by  as  she  gradually  gave  ground  before 
the  attacks  of  a  stout,  gray-templed  Briton,  a  General 
of  the  Army  of  Occupation.  She  fought  gallantly,  but 
he  stood  doggedly  before  her  handfuls  of  confetti, 
shaking  the  paper  chips  out  of  his  eyes  and  mustache 
like  some  invincible  old  St.  Bernard,  and  her  slender 
Mandarin-coated  figure  retreated  slowly  before  his  red 
and  medal-decked  jacket. 


"  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "     247 

"Watch  out!"  cried  Benton,  who  followed  her  re- 
treat, forbidden  by  the  rules  of  warfare  from  giving 
aid,  other  than  counsel.  "  The  British  Army  is  putting 
you  in  a  bad  strategic  position." 

She  had  retreated  across  the  flower-beds  and  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  rim  of  the  fountain.  Her  box 
of  confetti  was  empty  and  Benton  also  was  without 
ordnance  supplies. 

Young  Harcourt  suddenly  stepped  forward  from  the 
crowd. 

"  Here ! "  he  cried  with  a  smile  of  frank  worship,  as 
he  tendered  a  fresh  box  of  confetti.  "  Take  this  and 
remember  Bunker  Hill !  " 

The  British  officer  bowed. 

"  I  surrender,"  he  said,  "  because  you  violate  the 
rules  of  war.  Your  confetti  is  not  deadly  and  your 
tactics  are  mediocre,  but  your  eyes  use  lyddite." 

Inside  Cara  went  to  her  room  to  wrestle  with  the 
tiny  chips  of  multi-colored  paper  that  covered  her  and 
filled  her  hair.  In  the  hall,  Harcourt  came  again  to 
Benton. 

"  By  Jove,  she  is  a  wonder,"  he  said.  Then  he 
slipped  his  arm  through  Benton's  and  led  him  aside. 
The  American  followed  supinely. 

"  Benton,  do  you  remember  the  talk  we  had  about 
Romance  ?  " 

Benton  looked  quickly  up  to  forestall  any  possible 


248  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

personality  to  which  he  might  object,  but  Harcourt 
continued. 

"  Do  you  know  that  chap,  Martin  —  he  doesn't  call 
himself  Browne  now  —  has  turned  up  again?  He's 
been  here.  Not  ragged  this  time,  but  well  groomed  and 
in  high  feather.  To-day  he  left  to  go  back  to  Galavia." 

"Back  to  Galavia?"  Benton  repeated  the  words 
in  astonishment.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Harcourt  laughed.  "  The  scales  have  turned  and  his 
Grand  Duke  is  to  be  King  after  all." 

Benton  seized  the  boy  by  the  elbow  and  steered  him 
into  one  of  the  empty  writing-rooms. 

"  Now,  for  God's  sake,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  he 
demanded. 

"  That's  all,"  replied  the  young  tourist.  "  They've 
switched  Kings.  Oh,  it  was  so  quietly  done  that  the 
people  of  the  city  of  Puntal  don't  know  yet  it's  hap- 
pened. The  King  died  suddenly  and  Louis  will  ascend 
his  throne." 

"  The  King  died  suddenly !  "  Benton  echoed  the  words 
blankly.  "  I  don't  understand." 

"  Neither  do  I.  But  Martin  said  the  King  was  taken 
prisoner  and  tried  to  escape.  He  was  shot." 

"  How  did  Martin  know?  "  asked  Benton  slowly,  try- 
ing to  realize  the  full  import  of  the  boy's  chatter. 

"  The  news  hasn't  reached  here,  generally  speaking. 
He  said  that  the  King's  death  has  not  even  been  made 


"  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "     249 

public  there,  but  the  Countess  Astaride  has  been  stop- 
ping here.  Martin  himself  was  in  her  party  and  he 
helped  her  to  decipher  the  news  from  the  Duke's  code- 
telegram."  He  paused.  "  However,"  he  added,  "  that 
may  not  interest  you.  The  story  probably  bored  you 
at  first,  but  having  told  you  the  original  tale,  I  had 
to  add  the  sequel.  What  I  really  wanted  to  ask  you, 
is  to  present  me  to  the  wonderful  American  girl.  You 
will,  won't  you?  " 

Benton's  back  was  turned  to  the  window.  He  wiped 
his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief  and  stared  at 
nothing. 

"  You  will,  won't  you  ?  "  repeated  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  Benton  replied  mechanically. 
"  I  shall  ask  permission  to  do  so." 

Outside  on  the  terraced  veranda,  where  one  sips  tea 
and  overlooks  one  of  the  most  varied  human  tides  that 
flows  through  any  street  of  the  world,  Benton  and  Cara 
sat  at  a  table  near  the  edge  —  the  man  wondering  how 
he  could  tell  her.  Fakirs  with  spangled  shawls  from 
Assouit,  bead  necklaces,  ebony  walking-sticks,  scarabs 
and  souvenir  postcards  jostled  on  the  sidewalk  to  pass 
their  wares  over  the  railing.  Fat  Arab  guides  with 
red  fezes  and  the  noisy  jargon  of  half-mastered  French 
and  English  discussed  to-morrow's  journeys  with  indus- 
trious globe-trotters. 

On  the  tiles  squatted  a  juggler  from  India.     Under 


250  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

his  white  turban  his  glittering,  beady  eyes  appraised 
the  generosity  of  his  audience  as  he  arranged  his  flat 
baskets,  his  live  rabbits  and  his  hooded  cobras  for  an 
exhibition  of  mercenary  magic. 

Along  the  street,  heralded  with  tom-toms,  came  a  pro- 
cession of  lurching  camels,  jogging  donkeys,  rattling 
carriages,  acrobats  leading  dog-faced  apes  and  trailing 
Arabs  in  fezes  —  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  a  pilgrim 
returning  from  Mecca.  Motors,  victorias,  detachments 
of  cavalry  swept  by  in  unbroken  and  spectacular  show. 

Benton  sat  stiffly  with  his  jaw  muscles  tightly  drawn 
and  his  eyes  dazed,  looking  at  the  girl  across  the  table. 

She  turned  from  the  street,  eyes  still  sparkling  with 
the  reflected  variety  of  the  picture  that  hodge-podged 
Occident  and  Orient,  telescoping  the  dead  ages  with 
to-day. 

"  Oh,  I  love  things  so,"  she  laughed.  "  I'm  as  fool- 
ish as  a  child  about  things  that  are  new." 

With  another  glance  at  the  shifting  tide,  she  added 
seriously :  "  And  every  silly  Oriental  of  them  all  is  free 
to  go  where  he  pleases  —  to  do  what  he  pleases.  I 
would  give  everything  for  freedom,  and  they  have  it 
—  and  don't  value  it !  " 

Then  she  saw  the  hard  strain  of  his  face.  Slowly 
her  own  eyes  lost  the  glow  of  pleasurable  interest  and 
saddened  with  the  realization  of  being  barred  back  from 
life. 


"  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "     251 

The  man  bent  forward.  His  fingers  tightened  on 
the  edge  of  the  table  with  a  clutch  which  drove  the 
blood  back  under  his  nails.  It  was  a  hard  fight  to 
retain  his  self-control.  His  question  broke  from  him 
in  a  low,  almost  savage  voice. 

"  Cara !  "  he  demanded.  "  Cara,  is  there  any  price 
too  high  to  pay  for  happiness?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  The  intensity  of  his  eyes 
held  hers,  and  for  a  moment  she  feared  for  his  reason. 
Her  own  question  was  low  and  steadying,  but  he  an- 
swered in  an  unnatural  voice. 

"  I  hardly  know  —  perhaps  I  have  less  right  to  speak 
now  than  ever  —  perhaps  more.  I  don't  know.  I  only 
know  that  I  love  you  —  and  that  the  world  seems 
reeling." 

Something  caught  in  his  throat. 

"  I'm  a  cur  to  talk  of  it  now.     I  want  to  think  of 

—  of  —  something  else.     I  ought  to  think  only  what  a 
splendid  sort  he  was  —  but  I  can  realize  only  one  thing 

—  I  love  you." 

"Only  one  thing,"  she  repeated  softly.  Then  as 
she  looked  again  into  the  feverishly  bright  eyes  under 
his  scowl,  the  meaning  which  lay  back  of  his  words 
broke  suddenly  upon  her. 

"  Was! "  she  echoed  in  startled  comprehension. 
"  Was!  —  did  you  say  was?  " 

The  man  remained  silent. 


252  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

*'  You  mean  that  — ?  "  she  said  the  three  words  very 
slowly  and  stopped,  unable  to  go  on. 

"  You  mean  —  that  —  he  —  ?  "  With  a  strong  ef- 
fort she  added  the  one  word,  then  gave  up  the  effort 
to  shape  the  question.  Her  hand  closed  convulsively. 

Benton  slowly  nodded  his  head.  The  girl  leaned 
f  ofward  towrard  him.  Her  lips  parted,  her  eyes  widened. 

The  next  instant  they  were  misty  with  tears.  Not 
hypocritical  tears  for  an  unloved  husband,  but  sincere 
tears  for  a  generous  friend. 

"  Delgado  escaped,"  he  explained  simply.  "  Karyl 
was  captured."  Again  he  spoke  in  few  words.  It 
seemed  that  he  could  not  manage  long  sentences. 
"  Then  he  tried  to  escape,"  he  added. 

She  pressed  her  fingers  to  her  temples,  and  leaned 
forward,  speaking  rapidly  in  a  half -whisper  that  some- 
times broke. 

"  Oh,  it's  not  fair !  It's  not  fair !  I  want  to  think 
only  how  splendid  he  was  —  how  unselfish  —  how  brave  ! 
I  want  to  think  of  him  always  as  he  deserves,  lovingly, 
fondly  —  and  I've  got  to  remember  forever  how  little 
I  could  give  him  in  return !  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  he  was  the  whitest  man  — "  Benton 
stopped,  then  blurted  out  like  a  boy.  "  Oh,  what's  the 
use  of  my  sitting  here  eulogizing  him.  I  guess  he 
doesn't  need  my  praises.  I  guess  he  can  stand  on  his 
own  record." 


"  SCARABS  OF  A  DEAD  DYNASTY  "     253 

"  It's  monstrous !  "  she  said,  and  then  she,  too,  fell 
back  on  silence. 

Suddenly  she  rose  to  her  feet,  carried  one  hand  to 
her  heart  and  swayed  uncertainly  for  a  moment,  steady- 
ing herself  with  one  hand  on  the  table. 

The  man  turned,  following  her  half-hypnotic  gaze, 
in  time  to  see  Colonel  Von  Ritz  bending  over  her  hand. 
With  recognition,  Benton  started  up,  then  his  jaw 
dropped  and,  doubting  his  own  sanity,  he  fell  back  into 
his  chair  and  sat  gazing  with  blank  eyes. 

At  Von  Ritz's  elbow  stood  Pagratide. 

Slowly  Benton  came  to  his  feet,  his  ears  ringing. 
Then  as  Karyl  turned  from  the  girl  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  him,  the  American  heard,  as  one  listening 
through  the  roaring  of  a  fever,  some  question  about 
affairs  in  GaJavia. 

He  heard  Karyl  answer,  and  though  the  words  seemed 
to  come  from  somewhere  beyond  Port  Said,  he  recog- 
nized that  the  former  King  tried  to  speak  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  voice. 

"  I  have  no  Kingdom.     Louis  took  it." 

Karyl  had  held  out  his  left  hand.  The  right  was 
bound  down  in  a  sling.  But  these  things  were  all 
vague  to  Benton  because  it  seemed  that  the  pilgrim's 
tom-toms  were  beating  inside  his  brain,  and  beating 
out  of  time.  He  could  see  that  Karyl's  eyes  also  were 
weary  and  lusterless. 


254  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Turning  with  an  excuse  for  travel-stain  to  be  re- 
moved, Karyl  halted. 

"Benton,"  he  said.  There  he  fell  silent.  "Ben- 
ton,"  he  said  again,  forcing  himself  to  speak  in  a  voice 
not  far  from  the  breaking  point,  "  Blanco  —  Blanco 
is  dead." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  into  the  hotel. 

Blanco  dead!  For  a  moment  Benton  felt  an  insane 
desire  to  rush  after  Karyl  and  demand  his  life  for 
Blanco's.  Some  delirious  accusation  that  this  man  cost 
him  every  dear  thing  in  life  seemed  fighting  for  ex- 
pression and  reprisal,  then  he  realized  that  the  toreador 
had  won  his  way  into  Pagratide's  affection  as  well  as 
his  own.  Tears  came  to  his  63-68  for  an  instant.  He 
focused  his  gaze  on  a  cigarette-shop  across  the  street. 

"  Lady ! " 

A  grinning  Egyptian  face,  surmounted  by  a  red  fez, 
showed  itself  over  the  railing.  The  girl  started  vio- 
lently and  seemed  for  a  moment  on  the  edge  of  hys- 
teria. She  laughed  unnaturally.  Thus  encouraged, 
the  Bedouin's  grin  broadened  until  it  radiated  good- 
humor  across  the  swarthy  visage  from  cheek-bone  to 
cheek-bone. 

"  Nice  scarabs,  lady !  Only  five  piastres  —  only 
one  shilling,"  he  spieled.  "  Scarabs  of  a  dead  dynasty. 
Tres  antique" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN    WHICH    KINGS    AND    COMMONERS    DISCUSS    LOVE 

TN  the  gardens  of  the  hotel,  the  paths  lay  ankle-deep 
*  in  scattered  confetti.  Already  the  scores  of  lights 
were  going  out  and  those  that  remained  shone  on  the 
wreckage  of  an  entertainment  ended. 

Cara  had  gone  to  her  rooms.  In  his  own,  at  a  win- 
dow commanding  the  garden,  Benton  sat  in  an  atti- 
tude of  lethargic  dejection,  staring  down  on  the  linger- 
ing illuminations.  His  brain  still  swirled.  A  dozen 
times  he  told  himself  that  matters  were  precisely  as  they 
had  been;  that  the  developments  of  the  evening  had 
brought  no  change,  save  a  momentary  belief  in  a  mis- 
taken rumor  and  a  few  wild  dreams.  When  he  had 
waited  in  the  rotunda  for  Cara,  he  had  known  Karyl 
to  be  living.  He  knew  it  now,  yet  it  seemed  as  though 
his  life-rival  had  died  and  come  again  to  life.  It  seemed, 
too,  as  though  his  own  prison  doors  had  swung  open, 
and  while  he  stood  on  the  free  threshold  had  slammed 
inward  upon  him,  sweeping  him  back,  broken  and  bruised 
with  their  clanging  momentum. 

To-morrow  he  must  go  away. 
255 


256  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Benton  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  after  four 
o'clock. 

Then  a  knock  came  on  the  door.  Benton  did  not 
respond.  He  feared  that  young  Harcourt,  belated 
and  flushed  with  brandy-and-soda,  might  have  seen 
the  light  of  his  transom  and  paused  for  gossip.  The 
thought  he  could  not  endure.  Again  he  heard  and 
ignored  the  knock,  then  the  door  opened  slowly,  and 
turning  his  head,  he  recognized  Karyl  on  his  threshold. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  American  could  not  have 
spoken.  He  had  come  to  a  point  of  pent-up  emotion 
which  can  move  only  by  breaking  dams.  He  pointed 
to  a  chair,  but  Karyl  shook  his  head. 

For  a  while  neither  spoke.  Karyl's  hair  was  rum- 
pled; his  eyes  darkly  ringed,  and  the  line  of  his  lips 
close  set.  Benton  glanced  out  of  his  window.  Across 
the  gardens  the  wall  was  growing  blanker,  as  lighted 
panes  fell  dark.  One  window,  which  he  knew  was 
Cara's,  still  showed  a  parallelogram  of  light  behind  its 
drawn  shade.  Karyl  in  passing  followed  the  glance. 
He,  too,  recognized  the  window. 

At  last  the  Galavian  spoke. 

"  Can  you  spare  me  a  half-hour  ?  " 

Benton  nodded.  He  would  have  preferred  any  other 
time.  He  needed  opportunity  for  self-collection. 

Again  Karyl  spoke. 

"  Benton,  I  might  as  well  be  brief.     There  are  two 


KINGS  AND  COMMONERS  257 

of  us.  In  this  world  there  is  room  for  only  one.  One 
of  us  is  an  interloper." 

The  American  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  face ;  he  felt 
it  pound  at  the  back  of  his  eyeballs,  at  the  base  of  his 
brain.  An  instinct  of  fury,  which  was  only  half -sane, 
flooded  him.  Red  spots  danced  before  his  eyes.  The 
other  had  spoken  slowly,  almost  gently,  yet  he  could 
read  only  challenge  in  the  words,  and  the  challenge  was 
one  he  hungered  to  accept. 

He  made  a  tremendous  effort  for  self-mastery  and 
rose  slowly,  turning  a  white  face  on  his  visitor. 

"  You  told  me,"  he  said,  enunciating  each  word  with 
distinct  deliberateness,  "  that  you  would  fight  me,  when 
your  throne  freed  you.  You  begin  promptly.  I  am 
here,  but  — " 

"  I  think  you  misunderstand  me,"  interrupted  Karyl. 

"  But,"  went  on  Benton,  ignoring  the  interruption, 
"  neither  of  us  is  free  to  fight.  If  we  were,  Pagratide, 
you  may  guess  how  gladly  I'd  put  it  to  the  issue. 
Good  God,  man,  what  could  I  lose?  " 

"Wait,"  said  the  late  King  of  Galavia.  "I  have 
come  here  to  talk  with  you,  Benton,  in  a  way  which 
is  unspeakably  hard.  Can  you  not  make  the  same 
effort  to  lay  aside  passion  that  I  am  making?  " 

The  American  turned  and  paced  the  floor. 

For  a  moment  more  there  was  the  same  embarrassed 
silence  between  them,  then  the  Galavian  continued, 


258  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

measuring  his  words,  speaking  with  desperately  studied 
effort  to  eliminate  the  feeling  that  struggled  to  the  sur- 
face. 

"  You  love  my  wife." 

"  And  shall,"  replied  the  American  in  the  same  cal- 
culated, colorless  voice,  "  while  I  live." 

"I,  too,"  said  Pagratide.  "Therefore  we  must 
talk." 

"  Wait."  Benton  raised  a  hand.  "  If  we  are  to  talk 
at  all  along  these  lines,  Pagratide,  there  is  only  one  way 
in  which  it  can  be  done." 

"And  that  is  what?" 

"  That  each  of  us,  throughout,  talks  with  only  one 
thought  in  mind :  her  happiness ;  that  one  strip  aside  all 
conventions  and  talk  as  two  utterly  naked  souls  might 
talk." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Karyl  simply.  "  Otherwise  I 
should  not  have  suggested  it." 

"  Then,"  began  Benton,  "  up  to  this  point  we  are 
agreed." 

The  King,  despite  his  pallor,  smiled. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  still  don't  understand  me.  I 
haven't  come  to  murder  you,  or  to  invite  murder,  Ben- 
ton.  It  would  not  help." 

"  You  have  just  said  that  one  of  us  is  an  interloper. 
Presumably  you  have  come  to  decide  which  one  it  is." 

Karyl  shook  his  head. 


KINGS  AND  COMMONERS  259 

"  Benton,  that  point  has  been  decided.  Not  by  you 
or  me,  but  it  is  decided." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  admitted  the  American. 

His  visitor  studied  the  few  remaining  lights  in  the 
garden  beneath. 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  King.  I  am  an  outcast.  If  I 
ever  had  a  claim  before  God,  it  passed  with  my  Crown. 
I  could  hold  her  now  only  by  brutality.  I  told  you  I 
would  free  her  and  fight  for  her,  but  I  saw  her  eyes 
to-night.  .  .  .  Benton,  it  is  I  who  am  the  inter- 
loper!" 

No  answer  came  to  Benton's  tongue.  Pagratide  did 
not  seem  to  expect  one.  After  a  moment  he  went  on, 
with  the  manner  of  one  who  had  thought  out  what  he 
was  to  say,  and  who  compels  himself  to  go  through  with 
the  prepared  recital. 

"  If  there  is  no  throne,  I  must  eliminate  myself. 
.  .  .  But  for  the  time  being  I  have  given  Von  Ritz 
my  parole.  .  .  .  The  game  is  not  yet  quite 
played  out.  ...  He  and  Cara  agree  that  I  must 
play  it  to  the  end.  After  that  there  will  be  time  to 
remedy  mistakes."  He  paused. 

"  Pagratide,"  said  the  American  slowly,  "  you  are 
talking  wildly.  At  all  events,  while  everything  im- 
possible has  happened  to  us,  I  think  we  can,  after  all 
shake  hands." 

Karyl  extended  his  own. 


260  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  have  spoken  as  I  have,"  he  went  on,  "  because 
it  was  necessary  to  be  frank.  Meanwhile  I  must  ask 
you  to  place  me  under  yet  another  obligation.  There 
is  one  safe  place  for  her.  Will  you  take  us  with  you 
on  the  yacht,  and  cruise  in  unfrequented  ports,  until  Von 
Ritz  reports  to  me  ?  " 

"Where  is  Von  Kit/?" 

"  Gone  back  to  Alexandria.  He  still  cherishes  hopes 
of  a  restoration.  He  wishes  to  return  to  Galavia." 

"  Can  he  return  safely?  " 

Karyl  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  His  conduct  can 
hardly  be  construed  as  a  political  offense.  He  will  be 
under  suspicion,  but  all  Europe  would  resent  any  in- 
jury to  Von  Ritz." 

"  The  Isls  is,  of  course,  at  your  command." 

In  the  same  rooms  where  Karyl  and  his  father  had 
often  consulted  with  Von  Ritz  on  affairs  of  state,  Louis 
Delgado  sat  in  conference  with  a  foreigner,  who  had 
no  acknowledged  position  in  the  councils  of  any  govern- 
ment, yet  whose  mind  and  execution  had  affected  many. 
The  foreigner  was  Monsieur  Jusseret. 

"  Why,"  began  the  new  Monarch  testily,  "  do  you  be- 
lieve that  there  should  be  delay  in  proclaiming  myself? 
I  shall  feel  safer  with  the  Crown  actually  upon  my 
head." 

The  Frenchman  sat  reflectively  silent,  his  slim  fingers 


KINGS  AND  COMMONERS  261 

spread,  tip  to  tip,  his  elbows  on  the  arms  of  the  chair 
in  which  he  lounged. 

"Your  Majesty  is  not  a  fisherman?"  he  suavely  in- 
quired. Louis  rose  impatiently. 

"  You  know  that  I  have  no  interest  in  such  sports. 
Why  do  you  ask?" 

"It  is  unfortunate,"  mused  the  Master  Intriguer, 
"  since  if  Your  Majesty  were,  you  would  realize  the 
inadvisability  of  an  effort  to  land  the  game  fish  too 
abruptly  when  he  takes  the  hook.  Your  Majesty,  how- 
ever, realizes  that  it  is  wiser  to  eat  ripe  fruit  than 
green  fruit." 

The  King  poured  himself  a  glass  of  wine,  which  he 
gulped  down  nervously. 

"  You  speak  in  riddles  —  always  in  riddles.  What  is 
unripe?  The  blow  is  struck.  I  am  in  possession. 
What  is  to  be  gained  by  waiting?  " 

Jusseret  raised  his  brows. 

"What  blow  is  struck,  Your  Majesty?  You  know 
and  I  know  that  you  occupy  the  Palace.  Europe  in 
general  supposes  that  you  have  been  here  for  some  time 
as  the  guest  of  Karyl.  Europe  does  not  yet  officially 
know  that  Karyl  has  vacated  the  throne.  The  govern- 
ments agreed  to  recognize  you,  but  the  governments 
relied  upon  your  adequately  disposing  of  your  royal 
kinsman.  Yet  he  is  now  at  large." 

The  Pretender  wheeled  suddenly  on  the  calm  gentle- 


262  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

man  sitting  indolently  in  his  chair.  The  Pretender's 
face  paled. 

"Do  you  mean,  Monsieur  Jusseret,  that  after  en- 
ticing me  into  this  mad  enterprise  you  now  purpose  to 
abandon  me?  "  The  coward's  terror  added  excitement 
to  the  questioning  voice. 

Jusseret  smiled. 

"By  no  means,"  he  assured.  "But  Your  Majesty 
must  now  play  your  part.  I  merely  counsel  holding  the 
reins  of  government  lightly  —  as  Regent  —  until  it  is 
logically  advisable  to  grasp  them  tightly  as  King. 
Karyl  escaped.  The  man  shot  proves  to  be  an  unknown 
who  had  changed  coats  with  the  King.  Ostensibly, 
His  late  Majesty  is  traveling.  You  are  his  representa- 
tive. Now,  if  His  Majesty  and  the  Queen  should  fail 
to  return  from  their  journeyings,  your  position  would 
be  stronger." 

Louis  sank  into  a  chair,  deeply  agitated.  "  I  fear 
this  man  Von  Ritz  more  deeply  than  Karyl." 

"  Naturally,"  was  Jusseret's  dry  comment.  "  But 
Your  Majesty  will  leave  Von  Ritz  alone.  I  also,  should 
like  to  see  him  disposed  of  —  but  leave  him  alone,  or 
you  will  incur  Europe's  displeasure." 

"What  shall  I  do?"  The  question  came  in  a  note 
of  plaintive  helplessness. 

The  Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  you  ask  my  counsel,  I  should  say  send  for  one 


KINGS  AND  COMMONERS  263 

Martin.  He  has  been  of  some  service.  He  is  a  man 
of  action.  He  is  called  the  English  Jackal.  I  should 
suggest  — "  He  paused. 

"Yes,  yes  —  you  would  suggest  what?"  eagerly 
prompted  the  new  King. 

"  Really,  Your  Majesty,  you  should  act  more 
promptly  on  hints.  Diplomats  cannot  diagram  their 
suggestions.  I  should  suggest  that  the  English  Jackal 
also  travel,  with  the  understanding  that  if  he  should 
return  to  Galavia  after  the  death  of  the  late  King  and 
Queen  —  and  that  shortly  —  he  may  expect  certain  titles 
and  recognition  at  Court,  but  if  he  returns  before  their 
death,  he  need  expect  nothing."  Jusseret  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

The  Pretender  sat  silent,  frightened,  vacillating. 

"  And,"  went  on  Jusseret  calmly,  "  there  was  one 
other  suggestion  which  I  shall  make,  if  Your  Majesty 
will  permit  me  the  liberty." 

"  What?  " 

"  Touching  Your  Majesty's  marriage — " 

"  Yes  —  Marie  is  also  in  some  hurry  about  that. 
What  is  the  devilish  haste?  One  can  be  married  at  any 
time." 

Monsieur  Jusseret  rose  and  began  drawing  on  his 
gloves. 

"  Of  course  if  Your  Majesty  sees  fit,  a  morganatic 
marriage  with  the  Countess  Astaride  would  be  entirely 


264  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

advisable  —  but  for  the  Queen  of  Galavia,  Europe  will 
insist  on  a  stronger  alliance ;  on  a  union  with  more  rcyal 
blood." 

Louis  came  to  his  feet  in  astonishment. 

"  You  dare  suggest  that?  "  he  -exclaimed.  "  You, 
who  have  been  her  ally  and  used  her  aid ! " 

"  Pardon  me  —  I  suggest  nothing.  I  repeat  to  Your 
Majesty,  as  the  very  humble  mouthpiece  of  France,  the 
sentiment  of  the  governments,  without  whose  recog- 
nition your  dynasty  can  hardly  stand." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ABDUL    SAID    BEY    EFFECTS    A    RESCUE 

MARTIN,  tall  and  aggressively  British,  from  the 
black  silk  tassel  on  his  red  fez  to  the  battered 
puttees  and  brown  boots  that  had  once  come  out  of 
Bond  Street,  stood  watching  the  Isis  outlined  against 
the  opposite  walls  of  the  Yildiz  Kiosk. 

Few  pleasure-craft  call  at  Constantinople. 

"  If  you  had  not,  as  usual,  been  so  damned  late  " 
—  he  turned  with  a  gesture  of  raw  impatience  to  the 
heavy-faced  Osmanli  at  his  side  — "  I  could  have  pointed 
them  out  to  you  on  Galata  Bridge.  As  it  is,  they  have 
returned  to  the  yacht." 

"  May  Heaven  never  again  thwart  your  wish  with 
delay,  Martin  Effendi."  The  Turk  spoke  placidly,  his 
oily  voice  soft  as  a  benediction.  "  I  was  delayed  by 
pigs,  and  sons  of  pigs !  Your  annoyance  is  my  deso- 
lating sorrow,  yet  " —  he  waved  his  hand  with  a  bland 
gesture  —  "I  am  but  the  servant  of  His  Majesty,  the 
Sultan  —  whom  Allah  preserve  —  and  the  official  is  fre- 
quently detained." 

"What  is  done,  is  done.  Bismillah  —  no  matter!" 
265 


266  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  Englishman  curbed  his  annoyance  and  spoke  as  one 
resigned.  "  What  now  remains  is  this :  We  must  see 
them,  and  you  must  learn  to  recognize  them.  You  un- 
derstand? " 

The  other  bowed  in  unperturbed  assent. 

"  All  Europeans,"  he  suggested,  "  dine  at  the  Pera 
Palace  Hotel  —  it  is  the  Mecca  of  their  hunger." 

To  the  white  man's  voice  returned  the  ring  of  as- 
perity. "  And  at  the  Pera  Palace,  we  shall  not  only 
see,  but  be  seen.  Likewise  unless  we  have  a  care  in 
this  enterprise,  we  shall  not  only  eat,  but  be  eaten. 
A  man  may  stare  at  whom  he  chooses  on  Galata 
Bridge." 

"  When  I  dine  in  a  public  place  " —  the  Osmanli 
smiled  cunningly  from  the  depths  of  small  pig-like  eyes 
— "  I  shield  myself  behind  a  screen.  Thus  may  I  ob- 
serve unobserved." 

The  sun  had  set,  but  the  yellow  after-glow  still  lin- 
gered in  the  sky  behind  Stamboul  as  the  two  men  stood 
looking  toward  Galata  Bridge,  where  their  quarry  had 
escaped  them,  and  across  the  Golden  Horn. 

A  pyramid  of  domes,  flanked  by  a  pair  of  slender 
minarets,  daintily  proclaimed  the  Mosque  Yeni-Djami 
against  the  fading  amber.  On  Galata  Bridge  itself,  the 
day-long  tide  of  medleyed  life  was  thinning.  Where 
there  had  been  an  eddying  current  of  turbans  and  tar- 
booshes, bespeaking  all  the  tribes  and  styles  which  fore- 


ABDUL  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE     267 

gather  at  the  meeting  place  of  two  Continents  and  two 
seas,  there  were  now  only  the  belated  few. 

To  the  jaded  imagination  of  Martin  Effendt  and 
his  companion,  Abdul  Said  Bey,  the  falling  of  night 
over  the  quadruple  city,  smothering  more  than  a  million 
souls  under  a  single  blanket  of  blackness,  made  no  ap- 
peal. They  were  watching  a  yacht. 

Over  the  Pera  roofs  swept  flocks  of  crows  to  roost 
in  their  garden  rookeries  at  the  center  of  the  town. 
Across  the  harbor  water,  now  too  gloomy  to  reveal  its 
thousands  of  jelly-fish,  drifted  the  complaining  cries  of 
the  loons.  Then  as  the  occasional  city  lamps  began  to 
twinkle,  making  the  darkness  murkier  by  their  in- 
adequacy, there  arose  from  the  twisting  ways  of  Pera, 
Galata  and  Stamboul  the  night  howling  of  thirty  thou- 
sand dogs. 

At  length  Martin  held  up  the  dial  of  his  watch  to 
the  uncertain  light. 

"  I  must  be  off,"  he  announced.  "  Jusseret  is  wait- 
ing at  the  Pera  Palace.  Don't  fail  us  at  seven- 
thirty." 

The  tireless  features  of  Abdul  Said  Bey  once  more 
shaped  themselves  into  a  deliberate  smile.  "  Of  a 
surety,  Effendi.  May  your  virtues  ever  find  favor  in 
the  sight  of  Allah." 

For  a  moment  the  pig-like  eyes  followed  the  well- 
knit  figure  of  the  Englishman  as  it  went  swinging  along 


268  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  street.  Then  the  Turk  turned  and  lost  himself  in 
the  darkness. 

The  Pera  Palace  Hotel  stands  in  the  European 
quarter  of  the  town.  To  its  doors  your  steps  are  guided 
by  a  trail  of  shop  signs  in  English,  French,  German 
and  Greek,  among  which  appear  only  occasional  charac- 
ters in  the  native  Arabic. 

Almost  immediately  after  Cara,  Pagratide  and  Ben- 
ton  had  seated  themselves  in  the  dining-room  that  even- 
ing, Arab  servants  secluded  a  corner  table,  close  to 
their  own,  behind  mushrabieh  screens.  The  party  for 
whom  this  distinguished  aloofness  had  been  arranged 
made  its  entrance  through  an  unseen  door,  but  the 
voices  indicated  that  several  were  at  table  there.  The 
waiter  who  served  this  table  apart  might  have  testified 
that  one  was  an  Englishman,  wearing  in  addition  to 
European  evening  dress  the  native  tarboosh,  or  fez. 
Also,  that  against  his  white  shirt-front  glittered  the 
Star  of  Galavia.  The  second  diner  wore  one  of  the 
many  elaborate  uniforms  that  signify  Ottoman  offi- 
cialdom. His  eyes  were  small  and  pig-like,  and  as  he 
talked  no  feature  or  gesture  at  the  table  beyond  es- 
caped his  appraising  scrutiny. 

There  was  one  other  behind  the  mushrabieh  screens. 
The  niceties  of  his  dress  were  Parisian,  punctilious, 
perfect.  In  his  right  lapel  was  the  unostentatious 
button  of  the  Legion  d'Honneur. 


ABDUL  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE     269 

The  Englishman  spoke.  "  Much  of  your  story, 
Monsieur  Jusseret,  is  familiar  to  me.  It  will,  however, 
prove  interesting  in  toto,  I  daresay,  to  our  friend! 
Abdul  Said  Bet/,  whom  Allah  preserve." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  compliment  from  the  Turk, 
adding  his  assurance  of  interest,  and  the  Frenchman 
took  up  the  thread  of  his  narrative. 

"  We  supposed  that  Karyl  was  dead  —  the  Throne 
of  Galavia  clear  for  Delgado.  Alas,  we  were  in  error !  " 
The  speaker  shook  his  head  in  deep  regret,  as,  turn- 
ing to  Martin,  he  added: 

"  It  was  a  pardonable  mistake.  Let  us  hope  the  an- 
nouncement was  merely  premature."  He  lifted  his  wine- 
glass with  the  air  of  one  proposing  a  toast.  "  It  be- 
comes our  duty  to  make  that  statement  true.  Messieurs, 
our  success ! " 

When  the  three  glasses  had  been  set  down,  the  Eng- 
lishman questioned :  "  How  did  it  occur  ?  " 

In  the  smooth  manner  of  an  after-dinner  narrative, 
Jusseret  explained  the  occurrences  of  the  night  when 
he  had  brought  his  plans  to  an  almost  successful  ter- 
mination. He  told  his  story  with  charm  of  recital,  verve 
and  humor,  and  gave  it  withal  a  touch  of  vivid  realism, 
so  that  even  his  auditors,  long  since  graduated  from  the 
stage  where  a  tale  of  adventurous  undertaking  thrilled 
them,  yet  listened  with  profound  interest. 

With  the  salad  Jusseret  sighed  regretfully. 


270  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  rather  plume  myself  on  one  quality  of  my  work, 
Monsieur  Martin.  I  rarely  overlook  an  integral  detail. 
I,  however,  find  myself  growing  alarmingly  faulty  of 
judgment." 

"  Indeed ! "  The  Englishman  was  not  greatly  en- 
grossed in  the  autobiographical  phases  of  Jusseret's 
diplomatic  felonies. 

"  I  regret  to  acknowledge  it,  but  it  is,  alas,  true. 
I  reflected  that  the  world  would  resent  harsh  treatment 
of  a  man  like  Von  Ritz.  He  had  committed  no  crime. 
We  could  not  charge  treason  against  a  government  not 
yet  born.  I  opposed  even  exile.  He  immediately  re- 
joined his  fleeing  King  —  and  has  since  returned  to 
Puntal,  where  one  can  only  surmise  what  mischief  he 
agitates.  It  may  be  as  well  to  consider  his  future." 

"  And  now,"  callously  supplemented  the  Englishman, 
"  our  new  King  feels  an  uncertainty  of  tenure  so  long 
as  the  old  King  lives,  and  I  am  rushed  after  this  refugee 
Monarch  with  brief  instructions  to  dispose  of  him." 

There  was  a  certain  eloquence  in  the  shrug  of  Jus- 
seret's shoulders.  "  Messieurs,  we  have  wrecked  Karyl's 
dynasty,  but  it  still  devolves  upon  us  in  workmanlike 
fashion  to  clear  away  the  debris." 

Martin  leaned  forward  and  put  his  query  like  an 
attorney  cross-examining  a  witness. 

"  Where  was  this  Queen  when  the  King  was  taken?  " 

"  That,"  replied  Jusseret,  "  is  a  question  to  be  put 


ABDUL  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE     271 

to  Von  Ritz  or  Karyl.  It  would  appear  that  Von 
Ritz  suspected  the  end  and,  wise  as  he  is  in  the  cards 
of  diplomacy,  resolved  that  should  his  King  be  taken, 
he  would  still  hold  his  Queen  in  reserve.  That  King- 
dom does  not  hold  to  the  Salic  Law  —  a  Queen  may 
reign !  And  so  you  see,  my  colleagues,"  he  sum- 
marized, "  we,  representing  the  plans  of  Europe,  find 
ourselves  confronted  with  questions  unanswered,  and 
with  matters  yet  to  do." 

Martin's  voice  was  matter-of-fact.  "  After  all,"  he 
observed,  "  what  are  the  odds,  where  the  King  was  or 
where  the  Queen  was  at  a  given  time  in  the  past,  so 
long  as  we  jolly  well  know  where  they  are  to-night?  " 
Turning  to  the  Sultan's  officer,  he  spoke  rapidly. 
"  You  understand  what  is  expected?  "  He  pointed  one 
hand  to  the  party  from  the  yacht.  "  The  man  nearest 
us  is  the  King  who  failed  to  remain  dead.  That  failure 
is  curable  if  you  play  your  game."  He  paused.  "  The 
lady,"  he  added,  "  has  the  misfortune  to  have  been  the 
Queen  of  Galavia.  You  understand,  my  brother?  " 

The  Turk  rose,  pushing  back  his  chair. 

"  Your  words  are  illuminating."  He  spoke  with  a 
profound  bow.  "  In  serving  you,  I  shall  bring  honor 
to  my  children,  and  my  children's  children."  With  the 
Turkish  gesture  of  farewell,  his  fingers  touching  heart, 
lips  and  forehead,  he  betook  himself  backward  to  the 
door. 


272  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

Two  hours  later,  alighting  from  a  rickety  victoria 
by  the  landing-stage,  Cara  made  her  way  between  the 
two  men,  toward  the  waiting  launch  from  the  Isis. 
Filthy  looking  Arabs,  to  the  number  of  a  dozen,  rose 
out  of  the  shadows  and  crowded  about  the  trio,  pleading 
piteously  for  backshish  in  the  name  of  Allah.  The 
party  found  itself  forced  back  towards  the  carriage, 
and  Benton  fingered  the  grip  of  the  revolver  in  his 
pocket  as  the  other  hand  held  the  girl's  arm.  At  the 
same  moment  there  was  a  sudden  clamor  of  shouting  and 
the  patter  of  running  feet.  Then  the  throng  of 
beggars  dropped  back  under  the  pelting  blows  from 
heavy  ndboots  in  the  hands  of  harasses. 

An  instant  later  a  stout  Turk  in  official  uniform  broke 
through  the  confusion,  shouting  imprecations. 

"  Back,  you  children  of  swine ! "  he  declaimed. 
"  Back  to  your  mires,  you  pigs !  Do  you  dare  to  af- 
front the  great  Pashas?  "  Then,  turning  obsequiously, 
he  bowed  with  profound  apology.  "  It  is  a  bitter 
sorrow  that  you  should  be  annoyed,"  he  assured  them, 
"  but  it  is  over." 

"  To  whom  have  we  the  honor  of  expressing  our 
thanks?  "  smiled  Pagratide. 

The  Osmanli  responded  with  a  deprecating  gesture 
of  self-effacement. 

"  To   one   of  the  least   of  men,"  he   said.     "  I   am 


ABDUL  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE     273 

called  Abdul  Said  Bey.  I  am  the  humble  servant  of 
His  Majesty,  the  Sultan  —  whom  Allah  preserve." 

As  the  launch  put  off,  the  elliptical  figure  of  Abdul 
Said  Bey,  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  landing,  speeded  its 
departure  with  a  gesture  of  ceremonious  farewell  — 
fingers  sweeping  heart,  lips  and  forehead.  "  If  you  go 
to  shop  in  Stamboul,"  he  shouted  after  them,  "  have  a 
care.  The  pigs  will  cheat  you  —  all  save  Mohammed 
Abbas." 

When  the  reflected  lights  of  the  launch  shimmered  in 
vague  downward  shafts  at  a  distance,  he  turned  and 
the  scattered  throng  of  beggars  re  gathered  to  group 
themselves  about  him  with  no  trace  of  fear. 

"  You  will  know  them  when  you  see  them  in  the 
bazaars  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  You  shall  be  taught  in  time 
what  is  expected  —  likewise  bastinadoed  upon  your 
bare  soles  if  you  fail.  Now  you  have  only  to  remem- 
ber the  faces  of  the  Infidels.  Go!"  He  swept  out 
his  hand  and  the  Bedouins  scattered  like  rats  into  a 
dozen  dark  places. 

If  the  panorama  of  Constantinople  fades  from  a 
lurid  silhouette  to  a  sooty  monotone  by  night,  it  at  least 
makes  amends  by  day.  Then  the  sun,  shining  out  of  a 
sky  of  intense  blue,  on  water  vividly  green,  catches  the 
tiled  color-chips  of  the  sprawling  town ;  glints  on  dome 


274  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

and  minaret,  and  makes  such  a  city  as  might  be  seen 
in  a  kaleidoscope. 

Her  insatiable  appetite  for  beauty  had  brought  Cara 
on  deck  early.  The  early  shore-wind  tossed  unruly 
brown  curls  into  her  eyes  and  across  the  delicate  pink 
of  her  cheeks. 

When  the  yachtsman  joined  her,  she  read  in  his  eyes 
that  he  had  been  long  awake  and  was  deeply  troubled. 
In  the  shadow  of  the  after-cabin  she  stopped  him  with 
a  light  touch  on  his  arm. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  she  demanded,  "  what  is  the  matter?  " 

His  voice  was  quiet.  "  There  is  nothing  in  my 
thoughts  that  you  cannot  read  —  so  — "  He  lifted  the 
eyes  in  question,  half-despairing  despite  the  smile  he 
had  schooled  into  them.  "  Why  rehearse  it  all  again  ?  " 

Her  face  clouded. 

He  turned  his  gaze  on  the  single  dome  and  four 
minarets  of  the  Mosque  of  Suleyman. 

"  Besides,"  he  added  at  length,  speaking  in  a  steady 
monotone,  "  I  couldn't  tell  it  without  saying  things 
that  are  forbidden." 

When  she  spoke  the  dominant  note  in  her  voice  was 
weariness. 

"  My  life,"  she  said,  "  is  a  miserable  serial  of  call- 
ing on  you  and  sending  you  away.  Back  there" — 
she  waved  her  hand  to  the  vague  west  — "  it  is  summer 
—  wonderful  American  summer  I  The  woods  are  thick 


ABDUL  EFFECTS  A  RESCUE     215 

and  green.  .  .  .  The  big  rocks  by  the  creek  are 
splotched  yellow  with  the  sun,  and  green  with  the 
moss.  ...  I  wonder  who  rides  Spartan  now,  when 
the  hounds  are  out ! "  She  broke  off  suddenly,  with  a 
sobbing  catch  in  her  throat,  then  she  shook  her  head 
sadly.  "  You  see,  you  must  go !  "  she  added.  "  You 
will  take  my  heart  with  you  —  but  that  is  better  than 
this." 

She  turned  and  led  the  way  forward  and  for  the  length 
of  the  deck  he  walked  at  her  side  in  silence. 

As  they  halted  he  demanded,  very  low:  "And 
you  —  ?  " 

Her  answering  smile  was  pallid  as  she  quoted, 
"  '  More  than  a  little  lonely  ' — "  then,  reverting  to  her 
old  name  for  him,  she  laughed  with  counterfeited  gay- 
ety  — "  as,  Sir  Gray  Eyes,  people  must  be  —  who  try 
to  be  good." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN    A    CURIO    SHOP    IN    STAMBOUL 

E  muezzvn  had  called  the  devout  to  their  prayer- 
rugs  for  the  third  time  that  day,  when  the'  girl 
and  the  two  men  turned  from  the  Stamboul  end  of 
Galata  Bridge  into  the  tawdry  confusion  of  buildings 
which  cluster  about  the  Mosque  Yeni-Djami.  They 
were  bound  for  the  bazaars. 

Along  the  twisting  ways  stretched  the  booths  of 
native  merchants  stocked  with  the  thousand  fascinating 
trifles  that  the  City  of  the  Sultan  markets  to  the  jour- 
neying world.  Everywhere  the  crowd  surged  and 
jostled. 

On  the  side  street  where  the  shops  are  a  trifle  larger 
than  their  neighbors,  one  Mohammed  Abbas  keeps  his 
curio  bazaar.  In  such  flowery  Orientalism  of  appeal 
did  he  couch  his  plea  for  an  inspection  of  his  wares,  that 
Cara  was  persuaded  and  turned  into  the  shop.  Cut  off 
by  pressure  of  the  crowd,  Pagratide,  who  was  follow- 
ing, some  paces  back,  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  figure 
in  the  door  and  fought  his  way  to  her  side,  but  Benton, 
276 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL      277 

having  stopped  to  price  a  bracelet  of  antique  silver  set 
with  turquoises,  lost  sight  of  them.  The  girl  had  be- 
come interested  in  a  quaint,  curved  dagger  thickly 
studded  with  semi-precious  stones. 

Mohammed  Abbas  urged  her  to  see  the  rarer  and 
choicer  articles  which  he  kept  in  an  upper  room.  As 
they  talked,  a  half-dozen  natives,  swarthy  and  villainous 
of  face,  drifted  into  the  shop  to  be  promptly  ordered 
out  by  the  proprietor,  who  used  for  that  purpose  a  vo- 
cabulary of  scope  and  vividness.  The  ruffians  retreated 
after  a  brief  conversation  in  guttural  Arabic,  but  not 
by  the  street  door  through  which  they  had  come.  In- 
stead, they  left  by  a  low-arched  exit  to  the  rear,  con- 
cealed from  view  by  the  angle  of  the  screening  stair- 
way. Abbas  led  his  customers  to  an  upper  room  which 
they  found  dark  except  where  he  lighted  it  as  he  went 
with  hanging  lamps.  Its  space  was  generous,  broken 
here  and  there  by  piles  of  ebony  furniture,  inlaid  with 
pearl;  pieces  of  Saracenic  armor,  Damascened  bucklers, 
and  all  the  gear  too  large  for  the  narrow  confines  be- 
low. 

Half  an  hour's  searching  through  the  chaos  of  wares 
failed  to  reveal  the  choice  daggers  which  Mohammed 
wished  them  to  see,  and  with  many  apologies  for  added 
annoyance  he  begged  Monsieur  and  Madame  to  mount 
yet  another  flight,  and  visit  yet  another  store-room. 
At  the  head  of  these  stairs  they  encountered  absolute 


278  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

darkness  and  the  shopman,  with  his  ever-ready  apologies, 
paused  again  to  light  lamps. 

As  Pagratide's  pupils  accustomed  themselves  to  the 
murk  he  realized  that  this  last  room  was  bare  except 
for  tapestries  hung  flat  against  the  wall,  and  that  at 
its  farther  side  narrow  slits  of  light  showed  along  the 
sills  of  two  doors.  Turning,  he  noted  the  darker 
shadow  of  some  recess  in  the  wall,  immediately  to  his 
left. 

Suddenly  Mohammed  Abbas  closed  the  door  upon  the 
stairs,  and  sharply  clapped  his  hands.  In  all  lands 
where  Allah  is  worshiped,  clapping  of  the  hands  is 
a  signal  of  summons.  Thrusting  his  hand  into  the 
pocket  where  he  had  stored  an  automatic  pistol,  Karyl 
found  it  empty,  and  remembered  that  on  the  stairway 
the  merchant  had  apologized  for  jostling  him.  Then 
simultaneously  the  two  opposite  doors  opened  and 
framed  against  their  light  a  momentary  picture  of 
crowding  Arabs. 

Outside,  Benton  had  been  searching.  First  he  had 
felt  only  annoyance  for  a  chance  separation,  but  when 
ten  minutes  of  futile  wandering  had  lengthened  to  fif- 
teen, annoyance  gave  way  to  fear,  and  fear  to  panic. 
A  dozen  tragic  stories  of  mysterious  disappearances  in 
Stamboul  crowded  like  nightmares  upon  his  memory. 
At  last,  standing  bewildered  in  the  street,  he  caught 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL      279 

sight  of  a  familiar  figure;  a  figure  that  filled  him  with 
astonishment  and  delight. 

Colonel  Von  Ritz  had  left  Cairo  to  return  to  Puntal. 
Now  here  he  was  in  a  crooked  Stamboul  street,  ap- 
pearing without  warning,  but  with  his  almost  uncanny 
faculty  for  being  at  the  right  spot  when  needed.  He 
shouldered  his  way  to  the  side  of  the  officer. 

Though  the  two  men  had  parted  several  weeks  be- 
fore, the  Galavian  greeted  the  other  only  with  a  formal 
bow,  and  an  abrupt  question.  "  Where  are  they?  " 

"  I  have  lost  them,"  replied  Benton.  He  rapidly 
sketched  the  events  of  the  last  half-hour,  and  con- 
fessed his  own  apprehensions. 

With  evidence  of  neither  anxiety  nor  interest,  Von 
Ritz  listened,  and  replied  with  a  second  question. 
"  Have  you  seen  Martin?  " 

Benton  gave  a  palpable  start.  "  Martin ! "  he 
ejaculated.  "  Is  Martin  in  Constantinople?  " 

For  reply  Von  Ritz  permitted  himself  the  rare  in- 
dulgence of  a  smile. 

"  Martin  is  here,"  he  said  briefly. 

"And  you—  ?" 

As  he  spoke  the  figure  of  Martin  himself  emerged 
from  a  shop  a  few  paces  ahead,  and  without  a  back- 
ward glance  cut  diagonally  across  the  narrow  street  to 
disappear  into  the  doorway  of  the  curio  shop  which  is 
kept  by  Mohammed  Abbas. 


280  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

When,  after  being  cut  off  and  delayed  for  some 
minutes  by  a  passing  donkey  train,  Von  Ritz  and  Benton 
entered  the  place,  they  found  it  empty  except  for  a 
native  salesman,  but  as  the  Galavian  paused  to  make  a 
trivial  purchase  his  listening  ear  caught  a  sound  above. 
Without  hesitation,  he  wheeled  and  mounted  the  stairs 
with  Benton  close  at  his  heels.  Behind  him  the  shop- 
clerk  stood  irresolute  —  taken  aback,  with  a  vague  con- 
sciousness that  he  should  have  devised  a  way  to  stop  this 
gigantic  Infidel.  Assuredly  the  master  would  be  angry. 
Orders  had  been  explicitly  given  to  allow  no  one  to 
climb  those  steps  to-day  without  permission. 

While  Cara  and  Karyl  had  been  on  the  second  floor, 
a  heavy  Osmanli,  wearing  the  Sultan's  uniform,  had 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  room  above,  looking  about 
with  keen,  pig-like  eyes,  as  he  gave  rapid  commands  to  a 
half  dozen  Arabs  of  villainous  visage. 

"  You,  Sayed  Ayoub,"  he  ordered,  "  take  your  pig 
of  a  self  and  others  like  unto  you  into  that  doorway 
by  the  stairs.  Remain  until  you  hear  men  enter  from 
these  two  doors,  facing  the  Infidel  dogs.  Then  come 
upon  them  from  behind.  The  man  is  to  be  bound,  and 
when  evening  comes  -^  but  that  is  later !  Still,  if  he 
resists  too  much  — "  The  speaker  shrugged  his  heavy 
shoulders  and  made  a  certain  gesture. 

"  And  the  woman?  What  of  her?  "  The  question 
came  from  a  gigantic  Bedouin  whose  evil  countenance 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL       281 

was  made  the  more  sinister  by  one  closed  and  empty; 
eye-socket. 

Abdul  Said  Bey  nodded.  "  She  is  to  be  tenderly 
handled,"  he  enjoined.  "  She,  also,  must  disappear, 
but  that  shall  be  my  care.  My  harem  is  as  silent  as  the 
Bosphorus.'* 

There  were  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  instantaneously 
the  room  emptied  itself  and  became  silently  dark. 

When  Karyl  heard  the  hand-clapping  of  the  decoy 
shopman,  and  saw  the  responding  ruffians  in  the  opposite 
doors,  he  swiftly  thrust  the  girl  into  the  spot  of  blacker 
shadow  at  his  back,  and  seized  the  wrist  of  Mohammed 
Abbas  with  a  force  and  suddenness  that  wrung  from 
him  a  piteous  wail. 

Keeping  the  Turk  before  him,  he  backed  toward  the 
shadowed  recess,  with  the  one  idea  of  shielding  Cara. 
But  the  darker  spot  was  the  door  behind  which  Sayed 
Ayoub  lay  in  ambuscade,  and  as  Karyl  reached  it,  it 
swung  open,  showing  them  against  a  background  as 
bright  as  though  they  were  painted  on  yellow  canvas. 

With  his  free  arm  he  swept  Cara  into  the  doorway, 
wheeling  quickly  in  front  of  her,  and  sent  Mohammed 
Abbas  lurching  forward  into  the  faces  of  the  assailants 
led  by  Sayed  Ayoub.  Instantly,  however,  his  arms  were 
pinioned  from  behind  by  the  reinforcements,  and  as 
he  frantically  struggled  to  turn  his  face,  in  an  effort 
to  see  the  girl,  some  thick  fabric  fell  over  his  head, 


282  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

covering  mouth  and  eyes,  and  he  went  down  stifled  and 
garroted  into  insensibility. 

Seeing  the  man  overwhelmed  and  dragged  through 
the  door,  Cara  stood  rigidly  upright,  white  in  the  in- 
tensity of  voiceless  outrage,  until  the  gigantic  brute 
with  one  sightless  eye  and  a  greasy  tarboosh  reached 
out  his  grimy  hand  and  seized  her.  Then  she  sickened 
at  the  profaning  shock  of  his  touch,  and  fell  uncon- 
scious. 

A  few  moments  later  the  "  English  Jackal "  stood 
nonchalantly  looking  down  at  the  bound  figure  of  the 
former  King  lying  on  the  floor,  shoulders  propped 
against  the  wall,  head  wrapped  in  a  richly  embroidered 
shawl  from  Persia.  Lamps  had  been  kindled.  The 
head  wrappings  had  already  been  somewhat  loosened 
and  Karyl  was  stirring  with  the  indication  of  return- 
ing consciousness. 

"  Oh,  damn  it ! "  remarked  Martin  in  disgust.  "  He 
doesn't  need  to  be  both  trussed  up  and  gagged, 
you  know.  He's  quite  safe.  Take  off  the  head 
cloths." 

He  stuffed  tobacco  into  his  blunt  bull-dog  pipe  as 
he  supervised  the  undoing  of  the  smothering  fabric  and 
complacently  looked  at  his  prisoner. 

Freed  from  the  bandage,  and  drinking  in  again  re- 
viving breaths,  Karyl  awoke  to  the  sense  of  his  sur- 
roundings. His  eyes  at  once  swept  the  place  for  Cara, 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL      283 

but  he  saw  only  the  closed  door  of  the  room  where 
she  was  detained. 

Martin  looked  down  and  as  their  eyes  met  he  casually 
nodded. 

"  Sorry  to  inconvenience  you,"  he  commented  affably, 
"  but  this  is  politics,  you  know.  I  happen  to  work  for 
the  other  chap,  King  Louis."  As  an  afterthought  he 
added :  "  And  the  other  chap  thinks  that  you  are,  to  put 
it  quite  civilly,  unnecessary." 

He  smoked  meditatively,  while  Karyl,  without  reply, 
scowled  up  into  his  face.  The  sense  of  futility  left 
Pagratide  silent.  He  lay  insanely  furious  like  a 
trapped  wolf,  able  only  to  glare. 

Suddenly  the  complacency  deserted  the  Englishman's 
features,  for  a  startled  expression.  With  a  violent 
malediction  he  bent  forward  listening. 

KaryPs  ears  also  caught  the  sound  of  feet  on  the 
stairs,  immediately  followed  by  a  crash  upon  the  door. 

Martin  drew  a  heavy  revolver  from  a  holster  under  his 
coat,  and  his  voice  ripped  out  orders  with  the  sharp  de- 
cision which  had  survived  the  days  when  he  wore  a 
British  uniform.  "  Here,  you  beggars,"  he  shouted, 
"to  that  door!" 

As  the  Bedouins  swarmed  forward  there  came  a  second 
crash  under  which  the  panels  fell  in,  precipitating  Von 
Ritz  and  Benton  into  a  fierce  swarm  of  human  hornets. 

Falling  desperately  upon  the  newcomers  with  swords, 


284*  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

knives  and  naboots,  the  bravos  afforded  them  no  time  to 
take  breath  after  their  climb  of  the  stairs. 

Martin,  standing  with  his  pipe  clamped  between  his 
teeth,  took  no  part  in  the  onslaught.  He  cast  a  glance 
at  the  turmoil,  then  deliberately  cocked  his  weapon  and 
leveled  it  at  the  breast  of  his  captive. 

Karyl  realized  that  the  Jackal  was  not  to  be  led  away 
from  his  single  purpose :  that  of  execution.  If  he  him- 
self were  to  speak  to  his  rescuers,  he  must  do  it  quickly. 
He  raised  his  voice. 

"  Von  Ritz !  To  that  door !  "  he  shouted  loudly,  but 
the  Galavian  and  his  companion,  fighting  desperately  to 
hold  their  own,  with  the  shouts  and  clamor  of  the 
struggling  Moslems  in  their  ears,  did  not  hear,  and  the 
Englishman  only  smiled. 

"  They  are  quite  busy,  you  know,"  he  drawled  in  a 
half-apologetic  tone.  "  Give  them  a  bit  of  time." 

Von  Ritz  was  fighting  with  the  blade  of  his  sword- 
cane,  while  Benton,  too  closely  pressed  to  make  use  of 
his  pistol,  was  relying  upon  his  fists.  Indeed,  the  two 
white  men  owed  their  lives  to  the  crowding  which  made 
effective  fighting  impossible  on  either  side. 

At  last  the  Turks  gave  back  a  few  steps  for  a  fresh 
rush  and  Benton,  taking  instant  advantage  of  the 
widened  space,  fired  into  the  crowd.  They  turned  in 
terror  at  the  first  report  and  went  stampeding  to  the 
several  doors.  Then  for  the  first  time  the  rescuers 


ml  I!  mm&^  • 


SLOWLY    WILTING   AT    WAIST   AND    KNEES,    HIS    FK 
HUDDLED    NEA 


SLIPPED    TO   THE    FLOOR   AND    LAY    SHAPELESSLY 
!VT   OF    KARYL. 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL      285 

caught  sight  of  the  Englishman  standing  guard  over 
the  bound  figure  on  the  floor. 

With  the  grim  smile  of  one  who,  recognizing  the  end, 
neither  flinches  nor  dallies,  Martin  fired  two  shots  from 
his  leveled  revolver. 

A  half-second  too  late  Benton's  magazine  pistol 
ripped  out  in  a  frenzied  series  of  spats.  The  Eng- 
lishman swayed  slightly,  his  face  crimson  with  blood, 
then,  propping  himself  weakly  against  the  wail,  he  fired 
one  ineffectual  shot  in  reply.  Slowly  wilting  at  waist 
and  knees,  his  figure  slipped  to  the  floor  and  lay  shape- 
lessly  huddled  near  that  of  Karyl.  The  stench  of 
powder  filled  the  room.  Twisting  spirals  of  smoke 
curled  ceilingward. 

Von  Ritz  and  Benton,  kneeling  at  the  King's  side, 
raised  him  from  the  floor.  The  wounded  man  at- 
tempted to  speak.  His  eyes  turned  inquiringly  toward 
the  door  of  the  other  room.  Benton  caught  the 
questioning  look  and  nodded  his  head.  Then  Karyl 
settled  back  against  the  officer's  supporting  shoulder 
after  the  fashion  of  a  reassured  child. 

"  The  King  is  dead,"  said  Colonel  Von  Ritz  quietly. 
There  was  something  very  pathetic  in  the  steady  de- 
spair of  his  voice. 

A  door  opened,  and  several  Bedouins  retreated 
shame-faced  and  cowed  before  a  heavy  Turk  who  wore 
the  Sultan's  uniform.  His  small,  pig-like  eyes  blazed 


286  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

with  terrifying  wrath.  Looking  about  the  room  for  a 
moment,  he  volcanically  reviled  them. 

"  You  dogs !  You  pigs !  You  serpents ! "  he 
shrieked.  "Your  hearts  shall  be  thrown  to  the  buz- 
zards! Your  children  dishonored!  You  have  dared  to 
attack  the  foreign  Pashas,  and  you  —  Mohammed  Ab- 
bas — ! "  The  shopkeeper  fell  trembling  to  his  knees. 
*'  Your  filthy  shop  shall  be  pulled  down  about  your  ears. 
You  make  it  a  trap  —  your  feet  shall  be  bastinadoed 
until  you  are  a  cripple  for  life !  "  Then  his  rage  choked 
him,  and,  wheeling,  he  walked  over  to  Benton,  con- 
temptuously kicking  the  prostrate  body  of  Martin 
Effendi  as  he  went. 

From  every  pore  Abdul  Said  Bey  exuded  sympathy 
and  commiseration.  Scenting  liberal  backshish,  he 
promised  absolute  secrecy  for  the  affair,  coupled  with 
soothing  assurances  of  private  vengeance  upon  the  sur- 
viving miscreants.  Also,  he  bewailed  the  disgrace  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  Empire  by  reason  of  such  infamy. 
He  presumed  that  the  foreign  gentlemen  preferred  secret 
punishment  of  the  malefactors  to  a  public  sensation.  It 
should  be  so. 

In  his  anxiety  for  Cara,  Benton  left  Von  Ritz  to  ad- 
just matters  with  the  Turk,  who  with  profound  courtesy 
and  amazing  promptness  had  closed  carriages  at  a  rear 
door,  and  causexi  his  kavasses  to  clear  the  alley-way  of 
prying  eyes. 


IN  A  CURIO  SHOP  IN  STAMBOUL      287 

When  the  American  reached  the  room  where  Cara  had 
been  left  it  was  deserted  by  the  assassin's  guards.  With 
a  sudden  stopping  of  his  heart,  he  saw  her  lying  ap- 
parently lifeless  on  a  stacked-up  pile  of  rugs.  In  a 
terror  that  he  scarcely  dared  to  investigate,  he  laid  his 
ear  hesitantly  to  her  breast,  then,  reassured,  he  gave 
thanks  for  the  anesthetic  of  unconsciousness  with  which 
nature  had  blinded  her  to  the  tragedy  beyond  the  closed 
door. 

Two  curtained  carriages  drove  across  Galata  Bridge 
and  in  the  mysterious  quiet  of  Stamboul  there  was  no 
ripple  on  the  surface  of  affairs  as  other  tourists  haggled 
over  a  few  piastres  in  the  curio  shops  of  the  bazaar. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

BENTON    SAYS    GOOD-BY 

T    GUIS  DELGADO  awaited  Jusseret  in  an  agony 
•*-^  of  doubt   and  fear. 

The  Frenchman  was  late.  A  dispatch  from  the 
frontier  had  announced  his  coming,  but  to  the  anxiety 
of  Delgado  delays  seemed  numberless  and  intermina- 
ble. 

At  last  an  aide  ushered  him  into  the  apartment  where 
the  new  Monarch  waited,  his  inevitable  glass  of  Pernod 
and  anisette  twisting  in  his  fingers.  Jusseret  bowed. 

"  Where  is  Martin  ?  "  inquired  the  King. 

"Dead,"  said  the  newcomer  briefly.  The  Pretender 
paled  palpably.  Evidently  the  plan  had  gone  awry. 
Fear  always  stood  near  the  fore,  ready  to  rush  out  upon 
Delgado's  timid  spirit. 

"  And  being  dead,"  resumed  the  Frenchman,  "  he  is 
much  safer." 

Louis  gave  a  half-shuddering  sigh  of  relief.  He  had 
none  of  that  righteous  horror  of  crime  which  makes 
the  face  of  murder  hideous,  but  in  its  place  he  had  all 
the  terrors  of  the  weak,  and  playing  with  life  and  death 
gave  him  over  to  panic. 

288 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  289 

"  I  should  suggest  an  anouncement  that  King  Karyl 
had  fled  for  a  time  from  the  cares  of  State  and  was 
traveling  as  a  private  gentleman  in  strictest  incognito, 
when  sudden  death  overtook  him.  There  need  be  no 
hint  of  violence.  There  must  be  a  State  funeral." 

"  Where  is  the  body?  "  objected  Louis. 

Jusseret  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  That  I  cannot  say.  I  can,  however,  assure  you 
that  it  is  quite  lifeless.  Since  the  death  occurred  some 
days  ago  the  lying  in  State  may  be  dispensed  with.  A 
closed  casket  is  sufficient." 

"And  his  Queen?" 

"  That  point  is  left  unguarded,  but  from  intima- 
tions I  have  received,  I  believe  the  Queen  will  be  satis- 
fied with  private  life.  If  you  announce  her  abdication, 
she  will  hardly  contradict  you." 

"And  Von  Ritz?  "  persisted  Louis,  with  the  manner 
of  one  who  wishes  all  the  ghosts  which  terrify  him  laid 
by  someone  stronger  and  less  afraid  of  ghosts  than 
himself. 

"  Leave  Von  Ritz  to  me.  He  is  no  fool.  Von  Ritz 
knows  who  instigated  the  murder  of  the  King,  but  he 
is  without  proof.  The  thing  happened  far  beyond  the 
borders  of  Galavia." 

Louis  rose  unsteadily  from  his  chair. 

"  Jusseret,"  he  began,  "  this  interview  with  Marie 
still  confronts  me  and  I  dread  it.  Would  it  not  be 


290  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

better  for  you  to  explain  to  her?  You  could  persuade 
her  that  Kings  are  not  free  in  these  matters,  that 
crowned  heads  from  antiquity  to  Napoleon  have  been 
compelled  to  obey  the  dictates  of  State." 

The  Frenchman  stiffened. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  observed,  "it  is  impossible. 
Your  attachment  for  the  Countess  Astaride  is  a  personal 
matter.  I  am  concerned  only  in  affairs  of  State.  I 
must  even  require  of  you,  in  respect  to  that  confidence 
which  obtains  between  gentlemen,  that  you  shall  in 
no  wise  intimate  that  this  suggestion  came  from  me." 

The  new  incumbent,  who  had  brought  to  the  Throne 
of  Galavia  all  the  libertine's  irresoluteness,  paced  the 
floor  in  perplexed  distress.  He  feared  Jusseret.  He 
dared  not  anger  or  disobey  him.  It  appeared  that  being 
a  King  was  not  what  he  had  conceived  it,  as  he  sat 
under  the  chestnut  trees  of  the  Paris  boulevards  and 
listened  to  the  band. 

When  Jusseret  had  left  him  to  his  thoughts  he  paused 
three  times  with  a  tremulous  finger  on  the  call-bell, 
unable  to  command  the  courage  required  to  send  a  mes- 
sage to  the  Countess  Astaride.  Finally  he  succeeded 
and  five  minutes  later  stood  shamefacedly  in  the  presence 
of  the  woman  who  had  made  him  King.  She  was 
more  than  usually  beautiful,  and  as  always  her  beauty 
and  personality  dominated  him,  swayed  his  senses  like 
music.  It  was  so  easy  to  slip  into  the  impetuous  atti- 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  291 

tude  of  the  lover;  so  difficult  to  maintain  the  austere 
one  of  the  Monarch. 

Delgado  nerved  himself  and  began. 

How  he  said  it  or  what  he  said,  he  did  not  himself 
know  when  the  words  had  been  spoken.  He  rushed 
through  the  speech  he  had  prepared  like  a  frightened 
child  at  recitation  and  waited  for  the  outburst  of  her 
anger.  He  waited  in  vain. 

Marie  Astaride  had  plotted,  had  consented  to  every 
infamy  which  had  been  suggested  as  necessary  to  bring 
the  man  she  loved  to  the  Crown. 

Now  she  was  silent. 

The  man  looked  up  when  he  had  waited  a  seeming 
century  for  the  expected  torrent  of  reproach. 

She  was  standing  supporting  herself  upon  her  down- 
ward stretched  arms,  her  hands  resting  on  the  table. 
Her  face  was  pallid  and  her  magnificent  figure  rigid. 
The  scarlet  fullness  of  her  lips  had  gone  bloodless.  Her 
eyes  were  stupefied. 

At  length  she  straightened  herself,  let  go  her  support 
upon  the  table  and  went  slowly  like  a  sleep-walker  from 
the  room.  She  had  not  spoken.  She  had  not  said 
good-by,  but  Louis  Delgado  knew  that  she  had  walked 
out  of  his  life. 

That  evening  Monsieur  Jusseret  of  the  French  Cabi- 
net Noir  met,  as  if  by  chance,  young  Lieutenant  Lapas, 


292  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

who  was  now  high  in  the  favor  of  the  new  government. 
Jusseret  knew  that  the  lure  which  had  drawn  young 
Lapas  away  from  the  confidence  of  Karyl  to  the  un- 
certain standard  of  Delgado  had  been  the  influence  of 
the  Countess  Astaride.  He  knew  that  Lapas  loved  her 
hopelessly,  willing  even  in  her  name  to  serve  the  greater 
man  who  loved  her  more  successfully.  His  attachment 
was  that  of  the  boy  for  the  woman  who  is  mistress  of 
all  the  mature  arts  of  charm.  This  love  could  be 
turned  into  the  fanatic's  zeal;  this  boy  could  be  led 
to  the  extreme  of  martyrdom,  if  the  strings  of  his  char- 
acterless nature  were  played  upon  with  a  skill  sufficiently 
consummate.  Jusseret  knew  also  a  number  of  other 
things.  He  knew  that  whereas  he  had,  to  all  seeming, 
brought  a  difficult  task  to  completion,  he  was  in  reality 
not  yet  half  through.  His  own  vision  went  farther 
into  the  future,  and  recognized  in  the  present  only  a 
mile-post  far  from  the  ultimate. 

He  led  Lapas  to  his  own  rooms.  He  was  leaving  for 
Paris  the  following  morning,  he  explained,  and  wished 
a  brief  conference. 

Jusseret  could,  when  occasion  demanded,  be  not  only 
calm  and  self-sufficient,  but  also  emotional.  Now  he 
was  emotional. 

"  Rarely,  indeed,"  he  began,  "  do  I  permit  personal 
indignation  to  excite  me.  But  this  is  so  unspeakable 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  293 

that  I  wished  to  talk  to  you.  You  enjoy  the  confidence 
of  the  Countess  Astaride?  " 

"  Only  in  a  humble  way,"  confessed  young  Lapas. 

"  But  you  are  her  friend  ?  If  she  were  wronged  and 
had  no  other  defender,  you  would  assume  her  cause?" 

"  With  my  life,"  protested  the  officer,  fervently. 

"  This  matter,"  said  Jusseret  dubiously,  "  might  cost 
you  your  life.  Possibly  I  should  not  tell  you.  As  a 
politician  I  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but  as  a 
man,  I  wish  I  were  myself  free  to  act." 

"  Who  has  offended  the  Countess?  "  demanded  Lapas 
hotly. 

"  Offended,  my  young  friend !  This  is  not  an  of- 
fense. It  is  the  gravest  indignity  that  can  be  shown 
a  woman.  It  is  an  insult  to  which  a  man  must  either 
blind  himself  —  or  punish  with  such  means  as  can 
ignore  personal  peril." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  insisted  the  other,  "  explain  your- 
self." 

"  Louis  Delgado,"  began  'Jusseret  quietly,  "  accepted 
this  woman's  love:  enjoyed  it  to  the  full.  He  sat  and 
dreamed  over  his  absinthe  futile  dreams  of  power.  He 
was  too  weak  to  strike  a  blow  —  too  weak  to  raise  a 
hand.  Then  she  took  up  his  cause;  intrigued,  enlisted 
our  interests,  raised  his  supine  and  powerless  ambitions 
to  a  throne.  There  he  abandons  her  at  the  foot  of 


294  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  stairs  by  which  he  mounted;  and  refuses  her  his 
Crown.  He  talks  now  of  a  more  Royal  alliance."  Jus- 
seret  spread  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  disgust. 

Lapas  rose  tensely  from  his  chair.  The  veins  on 
his  temples  stood  out  corded  and  deep-lined. 

"  This  cannot  be  true,  sir,"  he  argued.  "  There 
must  be  some  error.  You  wrong  the  King." 

"  Am  I  the  man  to  wrong  Louis  ?  "  questioned  the 
Frenchman.  "  You  have  only  to  wait  and  see  for  your- 
self. The  matter  rests  with  you.  She  and  I  have  put 
Louis  on  the  throne.  So  much  I  did  as  the  servant  of 
my  government.  What  I  say  to  you  I  say  as  a  man, 
and  I  had  rather  behold  all  my  work  undone  than  to 
stand  by  and  see  it  bear  such  fruit.  Adieu." 

He  rose  slowly  and  took  his  departure.  Outside,  he 
smiled. 

"  I  fancy,"  he  told  himself,  "  he  wiU  go  to  the  Count- 
ess. I  fancy  she  will  corroborate  me  —  and  then  — !  " 
He  dismissed  the  matter  with  his  habitual  shrug. 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  the  tragedy  in  Stamboul, 
and  the  Isis  cruised  aimlessly  westward.  The  Mediter- 
ranean stretched  to  the  horizon,  so  placid  that  the  froth 
from,  the  wake  washed  languidly,  almost  lifelessly,  on 
the  surface,  and  a  single  cloud  hung  stationary  in  the 
softer  blue  of  the  sky.  Wrapped  in  a  steamer  rug, 
her  figure,  more  slender  in  the  simple  lines  of  her  black 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  295 

gown,  Cara  sat  gazing  toward  the  receding  coast-line 
of  Malta.  So  she  had  spent  most  of  the  hours  since 
they  had  weighed  anchor  at  Constantinople.  On  the 
deck  at  her  feet  sat  Benton. 

At  Piraeus  Von  Ritz  had  secured  a  copy  of  the 
Figaro  several  days  old,  and  the  men  had  read  its 
report  of  the  Regency  of  Louis  in  Puntal.  Then  the 
yacht  had  called  at  Malta  where  the  gray  fortresses  of 
Valetta  frown  out  to  sea,  and  Von  Ritz  had  once  more 
gone  in  quest  of  news. 

That  had  been  yesterday.  By  common  consent  the 
two  men  refrained  from  allusions  to  State  matters  in 
the  girl's  presence.  Now  the  former  adviser  of  the 
King  uneasily  paced  the  deck.  Over  his  usually: 
sphinx-like  face  brooded  the  troubled  expression  of  one 
who  confronts  an  unwelcome  necessity.  Suddenly  he 
halted  before  the  girl's  deck-chair,  and,  schooling  hisi 
voice  with  an  apparent  effort,  spoke  in  his  old-time  even 
modulation,  but  for  once  he  found  it  difficult  to  meet 
the  eyes  of  the  person  he  addressed. 

"  We  have  heretofore  not  spoken  of  things  which 
we  would  all  give  many  years  of  life  to  forget,"  he 
began.  Then  he  added  with  feeling:  "  Only  the  sternest 
necessity  could  force  me  to  do  so  now." 

As  he  paused  for  permission  to  continue,  the  girl 
raised  her  eyes  with  a  sad  smile  that  had  grown 
habitual. 


296  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Von  Ritz,  "  to  stand  for  an 
implacable  Nemesis  to  you,  and  yet  I  should  wish  to 
be  identified  only  with  happiness  in  your  thoughts. 
To  me  one  thing  always  comes  first.  The  House  of 
Galavia  is  my  gospel;  has  been  my  gospel  since  Karyl's 
father  mounted  its  throne."  He  paused  and  added 
gravely :  "  Louis  Delgado  has  reaped  his  reward  —  he 
is  dead." 

Benton's  voice  broke  out  in  an  explosive  "  Thank 
God!" 

Von  Ritz  stood  a  moment  silent,  then,  dropping  to  one 
knee,  he  took  the  fingers  which  fell  listlessly  over  the 
arm  of  Cara's  steamer-chair  and  raised  them  to  his  lips. 

"  Your  Majesty  is  Queen  of  Galavia." 

The  American  came  to  his  feet,  his  hands  clenched, 
but  with  quick  self-mastery  he  stood  back,  breathing 
heavily. 

Cara  sat  for  a  moment  only  half-comprehending, 
then  with  a  low  moan  she  leaned  forward  and  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Von  Ritz.  "  I  am  your 
Nemesis." 

Benton  moved  over  silently  and  knelt  beside  her  chair. 
Neither  spoke,  but  at  last  she  raised  her  face  and  sat 
looking  out  at  the  water,  then  slowly  one  hand  came 
out  gropingly  toward  the  American  and  both  of  his 
own  closed  over  it.  Von  Ritz  stood  waiting. 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  297 

When  finally  she  spoke,  her  voice  was  almost  child- 
like, full  of  pleading. 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  that  all  that  was  over.  I 
had  thought  that  whatever  is  left  of  life  belonged  just 
to  me  —  for  my  very  own.  I  thought  I  could  take  it 
away  and  try  to  mend  it." 

Von  Ritz  turned  his  head  and  his  eyes  traveled  north- 
ward and  westward,  where,  somewhere  beyond  the  hori- 
zon, lay  his  country. 

"  Galavia  needs  you,"  he  said  with  grave  simplicity. 
"  Unless  you  come  to  her  aid  there  must  be  ruin  and 
dismemberment.  You  will  save  your  country." 

But  his  words  appeared  to  convert  all  her  crushed 
and  pathetic  misery  into  anger.  "  It  is  not  my  coun- 
try!" she  replied  almost  fiercely.  "To  me  it  means 
only  — " 

Von  Ritz  raised  his  hand  supplicatingly.  "  It  is  my 
country,"  he  said  sadly,  "  and  —  your  duty.  Its  fate 
is  m  your  hands." 

The  girl  rose,  swayed  slightly,  and  putting  out  one 
hand  for  support,  stood  with  her  black-gowned  figure 
sketched  slenderly  against  the  white  of  the  cabin  wall, 
her  eyes  irresolute  and  distressed. 

"I  must  have  time  to  think,"  she  begged.  "Will 
you  leave  me?  "  Von  Ritz  bowed  and  retired. 

She  dropped  exhaustedly  into  the  chair  again  and 
for  a  long  while  sat  silent.  Finally  she  turned  toward 


298  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

the  man  who,  kneeling  by  her  side,  waited  for  her 
decision  through  what  seemed  decades  of  suspense,  and 
her  hands  went  out  gropingly  again  toward  him. 

"  Dear,"  she  said  in  a  voice  hardly  more  than  a 
whisper,  "  whatever  I  do  —  whatever  I  decide  — 
always  and  always  I  love  you !  "  Impulsively  her  fingers 
clutched  at  his,  which  rested  clenched  on  her  arm-chair. 

"  You  must  go ! "  she  said,  after  a  long  while. 
"  With  you  here  there  is  nothing  else  in  the  world. 
I  can  see  only  you."  With  a  catch  in  her  voice  she 
rushed  on.  "  You  must  not  only  go,  but  I  must  not 
know  where  you  go.  I  must  not  be  able  to  call  you 
back.  You  must  give  me  your  word  of  honor." 

He  attempted  to  speak,  but  she  tightened  her  hold  on 
his  hands  and  her  hurried  utterance  checked  his  words. 

"No!"  she  said.  "Listen!  This  time  I  decide 
forever.  I  must  decide  alone.  You  must  not  only  be 
out  of  my  sight,  but  beyond  recall.  Three  months 
from  to-day  I  shall  write  to  you,  but  until  then  I 
must  not  know  your  address.  Three  months  from 
to-day  you  may  be  at  t  Idle  Times,'  where  I  first  told 
you  I  loved  you  .  .  .  where  we  told  each  other 
...  if  you  still  wish  to  be.  Then,  if  I  decide  that 
I  am  free,  you  will  find  my  letter  there.  If  I'm  not 
free,  I  had  better  not  even  write.  I  couldn't  write  with- 
out calling  you  back.  If  I  have  to  decide  that  way  — " 
She  broke  off  with  a  shudder.  "  Oh,  you  must  go  — 


BENTON  SAYS  GOOD-BY  299 

Dear !  —  you  must  go  quickly  — !  It  is  the  only  way 
you  can  help  me." 

A  half-hour  later,  Benton  turned  to  the  approaching 
Von  Ritz. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said  steadily,  "  I  sail  for  San  Fran- 
cisco by  way  of  Suez  from  the  first  port  we  reach. 
You  will  favor  me  by  accepting  the  Isis  as  long  as  Her 
Majesty  can  use  it." 

Von  Ritz  met  his  eyes  in  silence  and  held  out  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

JUSSEUET    MAKES    A    EEPORT 

TN  Paris  a  small  party  of  gentlemen,  among  whom 
•*•  were  represented  all  the  national  types  of  Southern 
Europe,  were  engaged  in  an  informal  discussion  of 
very  formal  affairs.  They  occupied  a  private  suite 
in  the  Hotel  Ritz  overlooking  the  column  of  the  Place 
Vendome.  Upon  a  table  swept  clean  of  draperies  and 
bric-a-brac  lay  an  outstretched  map  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean littoral,  whereon  a  small  peninsula  had  been 
marked  with  certain  experimental  and  revised  boun- 
daries in  red  and  blue  and  black.  The  atmosphere 
was  thick  with  the  smoke  from  cigars  and  cigarettes, 
and  through  the  veneering  amenities  of  much  courtesy 
the  gentlemen  of  Europe's  Cabinets  Noirs  wrangled  with 
insistence.  Finally  Monsieur  Jusseret  took  the  floor, 
and  the  others  dropped  respectfully  into  an  attitude  of 
listening. 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary,"  he  began,  "  to  discuss  what 

has  been  done  in  Galavia.     That  is  long  since  a  stale 

story.     Our   governments,   acting   in   concert,   made   it 

possible  to  remove  Karyl  and  crown  Louis."     He  smiled 

300 


JUSSERET  MAKES  A  REPORT          301 

quietly.  "  You  know  how  short  a  reign  Louis  enjoyed 
before  death  claimed  him.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know 
that  his  death  was  not  unforeseen  by  me." 

There  was  an  outburst  of  exclamations  under  which 
France's  representative  remained  unmoved. 

"  Our  object,"  he  explained  coldly,  "  was  the  dis- 
ruption of  Galavia's  integrity.  In  reducing  this  King- 
dom to  a  province,  the  supplanting  of  Karyl  with  Louis 
was  essential  only  as  an  initial  step.  The  instability 
of  that  government  had  to  be  demonstrated  to  the 
world  by  more  continuous  disorders.  It  was  necessary 
to  show  that  the  Kingdom  had  become  incapable  of  self- 
rule.  It  followed  that  the  removal  of  Louis  was  equally 
natural  —  and  imperative." 

Don  Alphonso  Rodriguez,  bearing  the  secret  creden- 
tials of  Spain,  came  to  his  feet  with  the  hauteur  of 
offended  dignity. 

"  My  government,"  he  said,  with  austere  delibera- 
tion, "  had  the  right  to  know  what  matters  were  being 
transacted.  France  appears  to  have  assumed  exclusive 
control.  Is  it  too  late  to  inquire  of  France " —  he 
bent  a  chilling  frown  upon  the  smiling  Jusseret  — 
"  what  she  now  purposes?  It  appears  that  Spain  knew 
no  more  than  the  newspapers.  Spain  also  believed  that 
Louis  died  by  his  own  hand,  and  artlessly  assumed  the 
motive  of  disappointment  in  his  love  for  Marie  Astaride. 
We  believed  we  were  being  frankly  informed." 


302  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

The  more  accomplished  diplomat  lifted  brows  and 
hands  in  a  deprecating  gesture.  "  M on  ami,"  he  re- 
sponded with  suavity,  "you  flatter  me.  What  I  have 
done  is  nothing.  I  have  only  paved  the  way.  Quite 
possibly  Louis  did  kill  himself.  If  so  it  was  a  merito- 
rious act,  but  whether  he  did  so  or  whether  some  mad 
young  officer,  infatuated  and  jealous,  was  the  real 
author  of  the  result,  the  result  stands  —  and  meets 
our  requirements.  France  does  not  care  what  flag  flies 
over  the  Governor-General's  Palace  in  Puntal,  pro- 
vided it  be  the  flag  of  a  nation  in  concert  with  France. 
France  suggests  that  the  Governor-General  should  be 
a  Galavian,  and  points  to  the  one  man  conspicuously 
capable  —  who  happens  to  be,"  he  added  with  an 
amused  laugh,  "  my  particular  enemy." 

"  You  mean  Von  Ritz?  "  The  question  came  from 
Italy's  delegate. 

Jusseret  bowed  his  head.     "  Von  Ritz,"  he  affirmed. 

Don  Alphonso  Rodriguez  laughed  with  a  note  of  in- 
credulity. "  And  how  do  you  propose,"  he  demanded, 
"  to  persuade  this  loyal  adviser  of  Karyl  to  accept  a 
deputyship  at  the  hands  of  Karyl's  enemies?  " 

Again  Jusseret  smiled.  "  It  will  be  Von  Ritz  or  a 
foreigner,"  he  explained.  "  We  must  convince  him  that 
his  beloved  Kingdom  can  henceforth  be  only  a  province 
in  any  event  —  that  it  may  prosper  under  his  guidance 
or  suffer  under  a  more  oppressive  hand.  That  done, 


JUSSERET  MAKES  A  REPORT         303 

his  patriotism  will  prove  our  ally.  We  have  only  to 
convince  him  that  no  member  of  Karyl's  house  can 
reign  and  live  —  and  that  it  must  be  himself  or  an 
alien." 

"  It  would  have  been  as  easy,"  demurred  the  Portu- 
guese delegate,  "to  have  persuaded  Von  Ritz  that 
Karyl  himself  should  abdicate." 

Jusseret  felt  the  hostility  of  the  other  members.  In 
spite  of  the  realization,  or  perhaps  because  of  it,  he 
glanced  from  face  to  face  with  unruffled  urbanity. 

"  Messieurs,"  he  suggested,  "  you  overlook  the 
hypotheses  —  and  in  reaching  conclusions  hypotheses 
are  serviceable.  You,  gentlemen,"  he  continued  blandly, 
"  regarded  the  initial  steps  as  impracticable.  What  I 
volunteered  to  do,  I  have  so  far  done.  We  have  one 
object.  The  insatiate  ambition  of  that  nation,  which 
we  need  not  name,  must  not  gain  additional  Mediter- 
ranean foothold.  Spain  or  Portugal,  it  is  one  to  us, 
may  decide  the  matter  of  suzerainty  between  them- 
selves." 

"How  do  you  mean  to  persuade  Von  Ritz?"  in- 
sisted Don  Alphonso. 

"  In  the  young  Queen,  who  is  the  sole  elegible  candi- 
date for  the  Throne,  we  have  at  heart  an  unwilling  heir. 
Von  Ritz  distrusts  France.  Let  the  suggestion  come 
from  Portugal,  a  friend  who  can  speak  persuasively  — 
and  convincingly.  Let  him  see  the  inevitable  result 


304  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

unless  he  consents.  Let  all  which  we  have  done  be  de- 
nounced. Lead  him  to  believe  that  he  holds  as  stew- 
ard " —  Jusseret  raised  his  hands  as  he  concluded  — 
"  for  Karyl's  heir,  if  there  should  be  one.  These  things 
are  mere  details." 

Benton  worked  his  way  slowly  to  San  Francisco 
through  the  Far  East.  It  is  not  difficult  to  avoid  news- 
papers between  Ismai'lia  and  Manila,  and  with  the 
dogged  determination  to  let  the  day  set  by  Cara  an- 
swer all  questions  of  his  future,  he  had  neither  sought 
nor  received  tidings  from  Galavia. 

He  had  not  permitted  himself  great  indulgence  in 
hope.  The  past  months  had  brought  too  many  dis- 
appointments, and  he  knew  that  they  had  all  been  but 
episodes  leading  up  to  the  climax  which  must  come 
with  the  day  when  he  inquired  for  a  letter  at  "Idle 
Times." 

He  dreaded  a  return  to  "  Idle  Times  "  before  the  day 
set  for  his  inquiry.  Bristow's  place  stood  for  too  much 
of  memory,  and  the  inevitable  questions  of  his  friend 
loomed  before  him,  as  the  trifle  which  a  man  who  has 
stood  much  more  than  trifles  cannot  bring  himself  to 
face.  Yet  there  was  no  danger  of  his  being  late.  That 
time  was  the  one  fixed  point  on  the  calendar  of  his 
future.  One  day  before  his  three  months  had  come  to 
an  end,  he  arrived,  but  he  did  not  go  to  Van  Bristow's 


JUSSERET  MAKES  A  REPORT    305 

house.  He  did  not  announce  his  coming.  He  went 
by  the  less  frequented  streets  of  the  near-by  village 
to  its  inadequate  hotel,  where  he  found  only  a  drummer 
for  a  New  York  shoe  house  and  a  gentleman  traveling 
"  out  of  Chicago  "  with  samples  of  ready-made  cloth- 
ing. 

For  a  time  he  sat  in  the  clingy  parlor  of  the  place 
and  listened  to  the  jarring  talk  of  the  commercial  trav- 
elers. Already  Galavia  and  the  months  which  had  been, 
seemed  receding  into  an  improbable  dream,  but  the 
misery  of  their  bequeathing  was  poignantly  real. 

He  rose  impatiently  and  made  his  way  to  the  livery- 
stable,  where  he  hired  a  saddle  horse.  His  idea  was 
merely  to  be  alone.  The  reins  hung  on  the  neck  of 
his  spiritless  mount  and  the  roads  he  went  were  the 
roads  it  took  of  its  own  unguided  selection. 

Suddenly  Benton  looked  up.  He  was  in  a  lane  be- 
tween overarching  trees;  a  lane  which  he  remem- 
bered. Off  to  the  side  were  the  hills  bristling  with 
pines,  raised  against  the  sky  like  the  lances  of  marching 
troops.  It  was  the  road  he  had  ridden  with  her  on 
that  day  when  her  horse  fell  at  the  fence  —  and  there, 
on  the  side  of  the  hill,  stood  a  dilapidated  cabin:  the 
cabin  upon  whose  porch  he  had  poured  water  over  her 
hands  from  a  gourd  dipper. 

It  was  only  the  end  of  September,  but  an  early  frost 
had  flushed  the  woods  and  hillsides  into  a  hint  of  the 


306  THE  LIGHTED  MATCH 

crimson  and  gold  they  were  soon  to  wear  in  more  profli- 
gate splendor.  The  fragrant,,  blue  mist  of  wood  smoke 
drifted  over  the  fields  at  the  foot  of  the  knobs.  The 
hills  were  seen  through  a  wash  of  purple.  From  some- 
where to  the  far  left  drifted  the  mellowed  music  of 
fox-hounds.  Riding  slowly,  the  man  came  at  length 
to  the  cabin  gate. 

The  same  farmer  sat  as  indolently  now  as  then,  on 
the  top  step.  The  setter  dog  started  up  to  growl  as 
the  horseman  dismounted. 

The  man  did  not  recognize  him,  but  the  proffer  of 
Benton's  cigar-case  proved  a  sufficient  credential,  and  a 
discussion  of  the  weather  appeared  a  satisfactory 
reason  for  remaining.  It  was  only  a  verbal  and  logical 
step  from  weather  to  crops,  and  in  ten  minutes  the 
visitor  was  being  shown  over  the  place.  When  the 
round  of  cribs  and  stables  was  completed  it  was  time 
for  the  host  to  feed  his  stock,  and,  saying  good-by  at 
the  barn,  he  left  Benton  to  make  his  way  alone  to  the 
cabin.  Passing  through  the  house  from  the  back,  the 
man  halted  suddenly  and  with  abrupt  wonderment  at 
the  front  door. 

For  upright  and  slim,  with  a  small  gauntleted  hand 
resting  on  one  of  the  rude  posts  of  the  porch,  gazing 
off  intently  into  the  coloring  west,  stood  an  unmistak- 
able figure  in  a  black  riding  habit.  Incredulous,  sud- 
denly stunned  under  the  cumulative  suspense  of  the 


JUSSERET  MAKES  A  REPORT         307 

past  three  months,  he  stood  hesitant.  Then  the  figure 
slowly  turned  and,  as  the  old  heart-breaking,  heart- 
recompensing  smile  came  to  her  lips  and  eyes,  the  girl 
silently  held  out  both  arms  to  him. 

Finally  he  found  time  to  ask :  "  How  long  have  you 
been  here?  " 

"Six  weeks,"  she  answered.  "And  it's  been  lone- 
some." 

"  Your  answer,  Cara,"  he  whispered.  "  What  is  your 
answer?  " 

"  I  am  here,"  she  said.  "  Don't  you  see  me?  I'm 
the  answer." 


THE    END 


/MHDRS 
S- 

XMBHIM3 
/OTHEM 


CHARLES  NEVILLE  BUCK 


CHARLES  NEVILLE  BUCK 

HOUGH  still  a  young  man — he  has  only  just 
passed  his  thirtieth  year — Charles  Neville 
Buck,  the  author  of  "The  Lighted  Match,"  has  trav- 
elled far  and  done  much.  Although  it  was  as  late  as 
January,  1909,  that  he  first  settled  down  to  write  for 
the  magazines,  he  has  made  already  an  established 
reputation  as  a  short  story  writer,  and  promises  to 
make  an  even  greater  name  as  a  novelist.  His  first 
novel,  "The  Key  to  Yesterday,"  was  one  of  the  suc- 
cesses of  the  last  publishing  season,  and  we  shall  be 
greatly  surprised  if  "The  Lighted  Match"  does  not 
prove  still  more  popular. 

Born  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  he  visited  South  America 
with  his  father,  the  Hon.  C.  W.  Buck,  United  States 
Minister  to  Peru.  Since  then  he  has  travelled  in 
Europe,  covering  the  ground  where  he  places  the 
scenes  in  "The  Key  to  Yesterday"  and  "The  Lighted 
Match." 

After  graduation,  Mr.  Buck  studied  art,  and  for 
a  year  was  the  chief  cartoonist  on  Louisville's  lead- 


CHARLES  NEVILLE  BUCK 

ing  daily  paper.  He  then  turned  to  editorial  and 
reportorial  work,  which  brought  him  into  close  con- 
tact with  Kentucky  politics  and  the  mountain  feuds. 
In  1902,  while  still  a  reporter,  he  was  admitted  to 
the  Bar,  but  never  practised. 

Successful  as  he  is  at  the  short  story,  it  is  in  the 
novel  that  Mr.  Buck  does  his  finest  work.  The  novel 
rather  than  the  short  story  gives  scope  for  those 
little  touches  which  make  for  style  and  atmosphere, 
and  it  is  at  these  that  Mr.  Buck  peculiarly  excels. 
The  vivid  interest  of  his  plots  is  apt  to  blind  the 
reader  to  this  merit,  for  Mr.  Buck's  novels  have 
what  some  consider  the  only  virtue  of  a  novel,  that 
they  can  be  read  for  the  story  alone;  but  it  is  there, 
nevertheless,  and  for  some  constitutes  the  greatest 
charm  of  his  work.  In  "The  Lighted  Match,"  even 
more  than  in  "The  Key  to  Yesterday,"  is  this  artistic 
finish  noticeable.  "The  Lighted  Match"  is  not  only 
a  bully  good  story,  it  is  literature  as  well. 


P.  Q.  WODKHOUBK 


PELHAM  GRANVILLE  WODEHOUSE 

"P\URING  the  past  year  a  phrase  has  been  fre- 
quently heard  among  magazine  and  book 
men  in  New  York  when  the  name  of  Pelham  Gran- 
ville  Wodehouse  has  been  mentioned.  This  phrase 
is  "the  logical  successor  to  O.  Henry" — and  it  is  mis- 
leading. Any  humorist  who  tried  to  follow  in  the 
tracks  of  O.  Henry  would  be  merely  an  imitator  and 
the  task  would  be  as  unwise  as  though  O.  Henry  had 
cramped  his  own  freedom  in  an  effort  to  walk  in  the 
footprints  of  Mark  Twain  or  any  other  predecessor 
in  the  field  of  humor. 

Wodehouse  suggests  O.  Henry  only  in  that  he  has 
suddenly  come  into  universal  recognition  as  a  re- 
markable humorist.  He  wields  a  pen  which  com- 
mands an  uncommon  power  of  satire,  without  the 
suggestion  of  vitriol  or  bitterness.  His  humor  has 
a  sparkle,  effervesence  and  spontaniety  which  has  put 
him  in  an  incredibly  short  time  in  the  front  rank  of 
writers,  and  since  the  materialistic  barometer  at  least 
records  the  opinion  of  the  editors  and  since  the 


PELHAM  GRANVILLE  WODEHOUSE 

editors  are  supposed  to  know,  has  brought  him  into 
that  envied  coterie  whose  rate  per  word  in  the  maga- 
zines has  soared  skyward. 

P.  G.  Wodehouse  was  born  in  Guildford,  Eng- 
land, in  1 88 1,  and  while  still  an  infant  he  accompanied 
his  parents  to  Hong  Kong,  where  the  elder  Wode- 
house was  a  judge.  He  is  a  cousin  of  the  Earl  of 
Kimberley.  In  his  school  days  he  went  in  for  cricket, 
football  and  boxing,  and  made  for  himself  a  reputa- 
tion in  athletics. 

For  two  years  Mr.  Wodehouse  went  into  a  Lon- 
don bank  and  observed  the  passing  parade  from  a 
high  stool,  but  this  was  not  quite  in  keeping  with  his 
tastes,  and  we  find  him  next  publishing  a  column  of 
humorous  paragraphs  in  the  London  Globe,  under 
the  head  of  "By  the  Way."  Later  he  assumed  the 
editorship  of  this  department,  and  many  of  his  para- 
graphs lived  longer,  than  the  few  hours'  existence 
of  most  newspaper  humor.  Also  since  all  writers 
experimentally  venture  into  the  dramatic,  he  wrote 
several  vaudeville  sketches  which  have  had  popular 
English  productions. 

Three  years  ago  P.  G.  Wodehouse  came  to  New 
York.  He  liked  the  American  field  and  wanted  to 
see  whether  his  humor  would  strike  the  American 
fancy.  It  struck.  Mr.  Wodehouse  had  tried  his 
wings  here  only  a  few  months  when  magazine  editors 


PELHAM  GRANVILLE  WODEHOUSE 

were  bidding  for  his  manuscripts.  His  short  stories 
have  appeared  generally  in  the  magazines,  and  while 
one  often  finds  the  delightful  touch  of  pathos,  there 
is  always  an  abundance  of  laughter.  In  Cosmopoli- 
tan, Collier's  Weekly,  Ainslee's,  and  many  other  pub- 
lications these  stories  appear  as  often  as  Mr.  Wode- 
house  will  contribute. 

His  novel,  "The  Intrusion  of  Jimmy,"  last  year 
was  a  decided  success.  In  it  Mr.  Wodehouse  demon- 
strated his  ability  to  hold  his  sprinting  speed  over  a 
Marathon  distance.  The  book,  after  giving  the 
flattering  returns  of  a  large  sale,  found  its  second 
production  on  the  stage.  In  its  dramatized  version 
with  the  title,  "A  Gentleman  of  Leisure,"  it  has  had 
its  tryout  on  the  road  and  has  proven  a  success.  With 
Douglas  Fairbanks  in  the  reading  role,  it  will  be  one 
of  next  Fall's  elaborate  productions  on  Broadway. 

In  personality  Mr.  Wodehouse  is  quite  as  inter- 
esting as  one  might  gather  from  his  writings.  Physi- 
cally a  man  of  splendid  proportions  and  mentally  a 
fountain  of  spirited  humor,  he  is,  nevertheless,  mod- 
est to  the  point  usually  termed  "retiring,"  and  is  well 
known  only  after  long  acquaintanceship.  He  is  fond 
of  all  sports,  and  on  reaching  America  became  truly 
the  native  in  his  enthusiasm  for  baseball.  Mr.  Wode- 
house says  that  one  epoch  of  his  literary  career  dates 
from  his  purchase  of  an  automobile  in  1907.  The 


PELHAM  GRANVILLE  WODEHOUSE 

purchase  was  an  investment  of  considerable  gravity 
to  a  young  writer  just  commencing  to  command  an 
entree.  The  automobile  lasted  some  two  weeks  and 
came  to  a  violent  end  against  a  telephone  pole.  Mr. 
Wodehouse  thought  out  the  major  problems  of  life 
sitting  on  the  turf  near  the  pole  from  a  more  or  less 
lacerated  point  of  view.  He  decided,  among  other 
things,  that  his  forte  was  rather  writing  about  motors 
than  riding  about  in  motors. 

Mr.  Wodehouse's  second  novel  will  be  an  even 
greater  success  than  "The  Intrusion  of  Jimmy."  Mr. 
Wodehouse  spent  last  winter  on  the  Riviera  writing 
this  book,  and  his  friends  who  have  read  the  advance 
pages,  agree  with  the  publishers  that  it  will  deserve 
and  receive  even  greater  cordiality  than  the  first. 
The  title  will  be  "The  Prince  and  Betty,"  and  it  will 
be  something  for  novel  readers  to  look  forward  to. 


A     000034894     6 


